Dead Illusion
by enunciiate
Summary: Quinn has helped countless dead crossover to the other side, but what happens when the next person who seeks her help turns out to be the man she loves? She soon learns that a fine line exists between a gift and a curse. Set in the future. Please R&R!
1. After The Funeral

**A/N:** I love writing murder mystery stories. I have written one for the Gossip Girl fandom before so I figured I would do one for the Glee fandom as well. Feedback would be lovely as always. I should note that my knowledge of the supernatural comes from reading the novels of Victoria Laurie, although I have tweaked certain things to better serve this story. I will update as soon as I can, but please note that I happen to be on vacation still. Also, there will _not _be a summer edition of 'Fuinning In The Blanks', but I _will _be doing one throughout season 3 with references to the summer.

**After The Funeral**

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><p>Quinn pulled the black veil down over her eyes, head lowered, so that no one would see her tears. She caught sight of Santana standing at the front of the church. She was leaning on her mom, who was whispering what the blonde assumed were consoling words into her ear. The Latina was much less put together than she was, her face stained with running mascara. Her heart-wrenching sobs seemed to shake the church. At the age of twenty six, Finn Christopher Hudson was dead. No, not dead, <em>murdered<em>, and everyone who had known him was devastated (or at least they pretended to be).

Unable to watch her pathetic act anymore, Quinn slipped out of the back pew and left the church. She was the only one who knew the truth, she thought demurely to herself. Well, her and Puck. Then again, Puck _was _the one who was screwing her. Finn had been clueless about everything with regards to Santana of course. Never for a moment did he think she was after his money. (Finn was the Chief Financial Officer of a multibillion dollar computer company, not to mention he had won twelve million dollars in the lottery about two years back.) Never for a moment did he think she was screwing his "best friend" behind his back.

Quinn had caught Puck and Santana getting hot and heavy against the wall of a bathroom stall at one of their glee club reunions. Finn had been outside laughing with the rest of them, none the wiser. There were plenty of moments since then where she had been tempted to confront him with the truth, but she had sworn to distance herself from the McKinley crowd the moment she had graduated from that hell hole. Their annual reunions were the only exception. Otherwise, she avoided them like the plague.

She had given herself a clean slate and moved to New York to pursue a career in television. She struggled at first, getting a few small parts here and there. Her big break came with staring in a comedy titled 'Three Wishes' and opportunities came rolling in after that. More opportunities than she could take in fact. Quinn was turning people down left and right. Everything she touched turned to gold and her latest TV show 'Insomnia' was no exception. The ratings for the finale had been through the roof and the show, of course, had been renewed for a second season. Going somewhere without someone asking for her autograph was near impossible nowadays.

"I know how upset you really are, Quinn," a tiny voice spoke up from behind her, interrupting her thoughts.

The blonde didn't even need to turn around to place a face with the voice, grimacing as she felt the intruder rest a hand on her shoulder in an effort to comfort her.

"You don't know anything, Rachel," she answered without turning around to look at her, keeping her voice even. She spoke through clenched teeth, "So, piss off."

There was fog in the air, the atmosphere thick with pity. She felt like she was suffocating. She felt like she was going to throw up at any moment. There was _nothing _she hated more than pity. _She _pitied others. No one, _no one _was allowed to pity her. She was goddamn Quinn Fabray.

"You don't have to pretend in front of me," the brunette reminded her, although she let her hand drop to her side in defeat. "I know you never stopped loving him from high school. I _know _how hard this is for you, Quinn."

The blonde whirled around to face her then, Rachel having hit a particularly sore spot, and snarled at her, "I thought I told you to _piss off_, Berry."

Rachel flinched at the harsh tone of her voice as she continued to watch her for a moment, sympathy lingering in her eyes. Finally, she nodded, giving her a sad smile before heading back into the church.

_There it was again. That damn pity._

"You know where to reach me," she murmured as she left, even though she knew her words were most likely falling to deaf ears (which Quinn could confirm that they were).

The blonde rolled her eyes, waiting until she had disappeared from her view before getting into her car. She had no idea _why _she had even decided to come to his goddamn funeral. The people here might as well have been strangers. _He _might as well have been a stranger. Since graduating from high school, Quinn had only ever seen Finn at their high school reunions and even then, their conversations had been few and far between, not that they had anything to talk about really.

The drive back was a quiet one and she was only able to breathe easy again when she arrived at her building. She tossed her assistant her keys so that she could park the car before strolling toward the large double doors, the entrance to her palace. She allowed the paparazzi to snap a few shots of her before heading inside. Unlike most starlets, she had a great relationship with the paparazzi. She had come to an understanding with them. She let them do their jobs as long as they still gave her some privacy. She was even friends with a lucky few.

Her cool demeanor, however, disappeared as she entered the confines of the elevator, her lips quivering slightly as reality fully consumed her. Finn was dead. He was _dead_. Someone had _murdered _him. Quinn Fabray often pretended to be strong, but many a times, she was only one step away from crumpling, one step away from going over the edge. This, _this _was one of those moments. Her heart-wrenching sobs (much like the ones Santana had emitted earlier, except hers were real) echoed off the walls as she held onto the railing to support her shaking body. Finn Hudson, the boy she had never stopped loving was _dead _and the saddest part was that he would never know. He had died thinking that what he had had with Santana was real. He had died thinking that he was about to marry a girl he loved, one who loved him too. He had died without realizing that no one, _no one _would _ever _love him the way she had, the way she _did_.

By the time the elevator doors had opened again, Quinn was back to her usual, emotionless façade. She strolled into her penthouse, collapsing onto the living room couch in exhaustion. She lacked the energy to even drag herself to the bedroom. She turned to her left and noticed the red light blinking on the answering machine. She decided now was a good time as any to listen to her messages.

_Beep._

Hey babe. How was the funeral? Listen, everyone wants to know whether or not you'll be coming in for work tomorrow. Call me, okay? Love you.

_Beep._

Darling, People magazine wants an _exclusive _interview with you and Richard for the big one year anniversary. I told them you'd do it. It would be _excellent _publicity for the pair of you. Kiss, kiss!

_Beep._

Hey sis, mom's worried about you. You haven't called her in weeks. Look, I know you two don't exactly get along, but do this for me, okay? _Call her._ Did you offer our condolences to the Hudson-Hummel family like we asked you to?

_End of messages._

Quinn was quick to erase all three, letting out a strangled cry of frustration seconds later as she whipped the answering machine at the wall, the device shattering to pieces against the hardwood floor. _Fuck _them. _Fuck all of them!_ Everyone was always expecting something from her. When had anyone ever taken _her _into consideration?

Once she had taken deep breaths to calm herself down, returning to her usual, placid state, she got up from the couch to sweep up what remained of her answering machine. She would have to get her assistant to go and get her a new one tomorrow. In the meantime, she figured she should probably call her boyfriend and her publicist. Frannie and her mother, however, could wait.

She picked up the phone, the dial tone sounding in her ear as she waited for Richard to answer. When he finally picked up and greeted her with a hello, all he heard in response was his girlfriend's blood-curling scream.

"Quinn?" he shouted into the phone in his hand. "Quinn! Are you there? Babe, answer me! Quinn? Alright, I'm hanging up and calling the co-"

"Sorry Richard," Quinn apologized, finding her voice again upon hearing his threat.

She held her hand to her throat as she continued to stare into those familiar eyes, her voice still shaking.

"There was…a mouse," she explained, chiding herself for not having been able to come up with a better excuse. "Anyway, I just wanted to let you know I'll be at the studio tomorrow."

"_Jesus Christ_, Quinn," Richard responded, running a hand through his hair in annoyance. "You almost gave me a _fucking _heart attack. Look, I know the funeral was probably exhausting for you, seeing as he was your first love and all. Get some rest, okay? I'll pick you up in the morning for work. How does that sound, baby?"

"Um, great," she stuttered after a moment of silence as she had zoned out somewhat. "Sounds perfect. Thanks for being so understanding. Love you."

She waited for his 'I love you too' before hanging up the phone. Once the device was back in the receiver, she turned back to look at those familiar, warm, brown eyes, praying that he was only a mirage.

"You can see me," Finn noted, a confused smile spreading over his face as he waved a hand in front of her face for confirmation. "Quinn, can you see me?"

She nodded hesitantly, getting up from the couch again and making her way toward the kitchen in order to grab herself a cup of tea. She _hated _that God was doing this to her. From her first encounter with the dead at the age of eight, she had learned to accept her gift. The only other person who knew of her gift was her college friend, Amy, who had a related, but much different gift than her own. Whereas Amy could tell whether or not a person was dead from their photo, Quinn helped the dead crossover to the other side, the ones who she encountered anyway.

From the moment she had heard that Finn had been brutally murdered, she had prayed that God would not be so cruel as to allow her to encounter his spirit. How could she help the man she loved crossover to the other side when her heart would be telling her to keep him on Earth for as long as she could? She knew that would be selfish, but she always had been with regards to Finn. Quinn sighed and locked her eyes with his, waiting for him to ask her the question they always did, 'How can you see me?'. She would explain her gift to them, help them piece together the moments up and until their death, help them _realize _they were indeed dead, and then finally send them along their merry way.

"You seem distressed," he observed instead, giving her a small smile. "Are you okay, Quinn?"

The blonde had a feeling he had no idea he was dead right now. Like most, he probably thought this was merely a dream, that he was tucked away in his bed right now, sleeping. Ignorance was bliss, but in this case, he would not be able to crossover without realizing and accepting his own death. Quinn secretly hoped he never would, but knowing what happened to those who lingered in limbo for too long, she loved him too much to _ever _let him suffer that fate, to wander the Earth for eternity.

"I've been better," she answered simply, leaning against the counter as she took a sip of her hot tea. "I assume you went to see Santana first and then your family. Finn, are you not curious at _all _as to why I can see you and no one else can? "

He gave her a boyish smile and she automatically felt like she was being transported back to her childhood. She had missed that smile. She had missed _him_.

"I am, but I figured you would tell me why eventually," he told her with a nonchalant shrug, sitting on the countertop or more like, _floating _on the countertop. "Besides, I'm dead. I've got nothing but time."

Quinn frowned at his words, her eyebrows knitted together in confusion. Odd. Most of the spirits she encountered didn't usually _know _they were dead. Whereas those who died naturally crossed over quite quickly without the help of people like her (at least she _assumed _there were people like her), those who suffered traumatic deaths were stuck in limbo so to speak because they didn't realize they _were _dead.

Normally, Quinn's job was to help these individuals remember the events leading up to their deaths, no matter how painful. Once they came to terms with the fact that they were undeniably dead, only _then _would she be able to help release them from the confines of this world to a much, _much _happier place. She supposed Finn had simply saved her the work. He would be on his way soon enough.

(Her heart broke at the thought.)

"So, you are fully aware that you're _not _alive," Quinn clarified, her eyes becoming a little watery as she thought about how he would disappear before her very eyes like they always did once she had helped them.

Of course he was. He knew he was dead, had been _murdered _to be exact according to those who had attended his funeral. Oddly enough though, his last memory was of his business trip to Mexico. He remembered nothing about being murdered. Perhaps that was why he seemed so unaffected by his own death right now.

"Yes, I was at my own funeral," Finn reminded her, wondering why the hell she seemed so sad suddenly.

She had seemed unperturbed by his death at the funeral procession.

"You left early. I saw you. I also overheard what Rachel said to you," he confessed, watching her reaction.

Immediately she put her defenses up again, glaring at him, the look in her eyes almost menacing.

"Yeah, well, you must have heard me tell her to piss off too then," she shot back, the cup of tea in her hands no longer having the calming effect that it usually did.

"So, it wasn't true," he stated, unable to understand why the possibility earlier had made him feel more alive than he had felt in years.

He scoffed quietly to himself. He knew _why_, like he could _ever _fall out of love with Quinn Fabray. His heart began to pound in anticipation over her answer.

"Not since high school," she assured him, turning her back to him and heading toward the bedroom. "You can rest in peace now."

Finn stayed where he was for a moment, his lips pressed together in slight disappointment before he followed her. The door was closed, but he walked right through the wooden barrier. Way cool, he thought to himself.

"Right, I suppose I can then," he responded, trying to pretend like her words hadn't affected him in any way. "So, are you going to tell me why you can see me and no one else can? Of everyone, I thought Santana would be the one who would be able to."

"Right," Quinn scoffed as she took off her makeup. "Because Santana's your perfect little fiancée. We all saw how distraught she was at the funeral."

"How about you watch how you talk about her?" Finn suggested, starting to get irritated with her attitude. "Santana's been through a lot with me."

"Like watching you accumulate a massive fortune, Finn?" she asked with a bitter laugh, unable to control herself.

"She's not with me for my money, she _wasn't_," he hissed, speaking to her through her mirror. "What Santana and I had was _real_. You don't know _anything _about her! You two have barely spoken to each other since high school. _We've _barely spoken to each other since high school!"

Quinn wanted to say, "Oh, is _that _why she's been screwing Puck behind your back?", but she didn't. That would be too cruel.

Instead, she said, "I apologize. You're right. I know nothing about her, or you, _or _your relationship."

She got up from her vanity table, crossing her arms over her chest and simply observed him for a moment. Clearly what she and Finn had had was over. She shouldn't be upset with God about this. What He had given her right now was an opportunity to fully let go of Finn. Once she helped him crossover, Quinn knew this burden would finally be lifted from her shoulders. She would _finally _be able to love Richard completely, give all of her heart to him.

(She _had _to believe that.)

"Anyway, long story short, I help the dead - that would be you - crossover to the other side," Quinn started when he had kept quiet after her apology.

He had been surprised by her apology, having thought she would have had some biting remark for him instead.

"Crossover," he echoed, looking at her skeptically.

She had gotten used to these looks of disbelief over the years.

"Yes," she answered, expanding a little. "Mind you I don't seek out the dead. I simply help those I happen to come across. So, you are _a hundred percent _fully aware that you were murdered?"

"_Yes_," he told her for the billionth time, rolling his eyes. "Are you _a hundred percent _fully aware that you're being redundant with your questions?"

She stared at him in shock for a moment before a smirk spread across her face.

"The years have done some good for you Hudson evidently," she commented, looking at him, impressed. "Got yourself a backbone."

He nodded at her, a small laugh escaping from his lips.

"Yeah, I guess you could say that," he said, watching as a her smirk slowly transformed into a genuine smile.

Their eyes locked for a moment before Quinn broke whatever was holding them in this dazed state.

"Who killed you?" she questioned, curiosity passing over her features.

She chided herself for having forgotten probably the most important question after 'Did you ever stop loving me, Finn?' to which the answer was most certainly, 'Yes, a long time ago.'

"I think the police would appreciate the help," she added, encouraging him to respond.

Finn pursed his lips, eyebrows furrowed in thought.

"I…I don't know," he finally admitted, opening his eyes again to glance at her. "I don't remember."

"What's the last thing you _do _remember?" Quinn asked, watching as he closed his eyes in thought again.

She needed to be patient with him. Her gift _required _patience.

"Boarding a plane to Mexico for a business trip," he told her, his memories jumbled beyond that point.

"Oh, well then I don't think you're ready to crossover quite yet," she informed him, trying to keep the utter joy out of her voice. "I'm guessing you don't see a tiny ball of light somewhere above your head?"

Finn looked above him for a moment, checking twice just to be sure.

"Nope," he finally confirmed, considering for a moment that perhaps this was all a dream.

It all seemed a little _out _there. Since when had Quinn had this superpower and why had she never shared this with him while they were dating?

"Hmmm," Quinn sounded, tapping her index finger lightly on her chin. "Definitely not ready then. I've got to make a call, a private one. Can you go? You can come back and find me later."

Finn shrugged, wondering why she was so quick to get rid of him, but followed her instructions. She was the only one who could help him "move on" after all. Walking away from her though, he realized that maybe he didn't _want _to "move on". Talking to Quinn again was nice, _real _nice.

"Uh, yeah, sure, I guess," he said, making his leave. "I want to go and check to make sure Santana's okay anyway."

Quinn nodded at him. She was okay alright, she thought to herself as he vanished. So okay in fact that she was probably already screwing Puck by now. She probably should have warned him, should have told him the truth, but he wouldn't believe her until he saw it with his own eyes anyway.

(Quinn secretly wished they were fucking right now.)


	2. Web Of Denial

**A/N:** Thank you for your wonderful responses to my first chapter. Again, I welcome feedback, whether positive or negative.

**Web Of Denial**

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><p>Finn strolled out of the apartment, deciding that he should probably drop by the hotel to check on his family first. His parents had flown in from Lima for the funeral. The hotel had been a chance investment for him, one that had done him well. He had named the hotel 'Cinderella'. Of course, no one quite understood why he had chosen that particular name. It was certainly odd for a hotel. He had explained to the press that the luxurious building had simply reminded him of a palace and so, the name had seemed appropriate at the time. Kurt, however, had shared a knowing look with him out of the corner of his eye. His stepbrother knew he had named the hotel for <em>her<em>, for Quinn Fabray.

He still remembered the junior prom, every detail, including how much of a jackass he had been. What he remembered most, however, was that moment when she had descended down the stairs of her house, her sparkling blue dress hugging every curve of her body. Gripping the box containing her corsage tightly in his hands, he had told her she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen and even now, as he was reminiscing about the moment, his words remained true. He shook his head at his own absurd thoughts, chiding himself for even thinking about her right now. He should be making sure Santana was okay. He was supposed to be making sure his _family _was okay. He had visited them briefly before he had gone to see Quinn and they had all been absolutely distraught.

He closed his eyes and pictured himself in the presidential suite and when he opened them, he was there. Finn grinned to himself. Being dead was kind of awesome. He could travel short distances without having to take a single step. He had imagined himself in Spain earlier, but nothing had happened, so he assumed there were limitations to his abilities. He found Santana in their bedroom (although he supposed the room was only _hers _now). She was sitting at her vanity table, redoing her makeup. Although no tears fell from her eyes any longer, he knew his fiancée was still torn on the inside. She often kept her emotions hidden from the outside world, but he had gotten to know that side of her that she had only ever shown one other person in her life, Brittany. Finn wondered where the blonde was now. _No one_, not even Santana had seen her since graduation. He had certainly not caught sight of her at his funeral either.

His heart broke as he watched Santana slide the engagement ring he had given her slowly off of her finger. The Latina held the shiny object between her thumb and her index finger for a moment, observing the ring, her expression betraying no emotions. Finn knew this was hard for her. The wedding would have been in two weeks. He should never have gone on that business trip. Boarding that plane to Mexico had been his last memory and he assumed that he had been murdered sometime after that. Boarding that flight to Mexico had been one of the biggest mistakes of his life. When he had first mentioned the business trip to his fiancée, she had been irritated with his determination to go. She had asked him countless times not to go and he had gone anyway. He regretted not listening to her now.

_"Our wedding is in two weeks!" Santana shouted when he casually mentioned the business trip and he winced at the shrill sound of her voice. "There are so many things we still haven't done! How do you expect me to plan the perfect wedding when I can't even consult you on something as simple as the color of our table cloths for the reception?"_

_Finn let out a chuckle at her melodramatic tendencies, which was quickly cut short by her infamous death glare. No one was immune to that frightful gaze. In fact, the wedding planner and her entire team of assistants were currently standing behind the bride-to-be looking very much like they were all ready to piss themselves in fear at any moment. The staff secretly called her 'Bridezilla' behind her back and sometimes, Finn would even use the term to describe her himself. He loved her, but she could get really scary sometimes. Hell, she was probably even scarier now than she had been in high school!_

_"San, you don't have to run anything by me," he assured her, placing his hands on both sides of her waist and pulling her close._

_She ignored him and turned her nose up into the air, arms crossed tightly over her chest in defiance. She was so goddamn stubborn sometimes, he thought to himself, a tired sigh escaping from his lips. He had had a ridiculously long day at work today and was hardly in the mood to argue with her. What he wanted to do was wind down and winding her up right now was certainly not going to help with that._

_"As long as you're the one walking down the aisle toward me on that day, I could care less what color the linens are, okay?" Finn continued, knowing that he would be sure to get a response from her after that and sure enough, he did (although not the response he had expected)._

_Santana swatted his hands away, picking up a discarded magazine from the sofa and thrusting the thin, glossy book into his face. His words had obviously not appeased her._

_"Do you see the headline, Finn? People are expecting this wedding to be the wedding of the century!" she reminded him, clearly still very much upset. "What are people going to think when they hear you decided to go on a business trip so close to the wedding?"_

_He opened his mouth in preparation to answer her, one which would hopefully calm her down, but she kept going and so, he was unable to contribute a single word to the conversation._

_"I'll tell you what," she spat, responding to her own question. "They're going to think we're having problems. There's going to be talk and you know how much I hate talk Finn, especially when that talk has the potential of ruining my image, our image. You of all people should know how important reputation is in this city of dreams!"_

_"San," he cooed, approaching her again. "Breathe. You're way too stressed about this. Everyone in this city thinks very highly of us and you know that. Me going on a business trip so close to wedding won't change that. I am the CFO of the company, you know. I am expected to go on business trips."_

_"Can't you send someone else?" Santana whined, pouting as she leaned into his strong frame. "Please. I'm going to miss you too much. I need you here with me right now."_

_Finn wavered slightly upon hearing her words, wanting to give into her wishes, but knowing that he couldn't. The CEO had asked him to go on this business trip as a personal favor to him. He had insisted that whatever he needed Finn to deal with was important, top priority, and that he was the only man he could entrust with the job. How could Finn turn him down after hearing that, especially when his boss had taken such a huge leap of faith when hiring him in the first place?_

Oddly enough, he couldn't quite recall what his boss had specifically asked him to do now. His head hurt just trying to revive the missing pieces of his memory.

_"I'm sorry," Finn whispered, ultimately pushing her away. "I really want to stay with you. You know that, but I can't. Look, I am okaying in advance whatever you want for the wedding."_

_He turned to address the wedding planner and repeated, "Whatever she wants, she gets. I don't care what it is. If it's some goddamn flower that can only be found in Indonesia, you make sure she gets it. You just charge everything to my gold card, got it?"_

_The wedding planner nodded and Santana gave in to him moments later, a small smile returning to grace her face._

_"Fine," she said, placing a quick kiss on his lips. "You better call me the moment you land though. When do you leave?"_

_"Tomorrow," he informed her, returning her kiss, glad that he had won this battle. "I promise to call you the moment the plane lands in Mexico, alright? I love you."_

_"I love you too," she echoed, her attention already back on the wedding planner and her team, waving him off without so much as looking in his direction._

Finn sighed as he snapped himself out of his thoughts. That was the last time he had seen her. He wished their final moment together would have been different, happier perhaps, but most of their conversations were usually frustrating, he supposed.

"Santana," he called out to her now, hoping she could hear him, _see _him as Quinn could, but knowing that she couldn't.

He wanted to say so many things to her, wanted to hold her in his arms one last time. He was sorry for leaving her behind to fend for herself, even though he had had no control whatsoever over his own death. She was a strong girl though and Finn knew she would survive. If _anyone _could after such a tragic event, it was Santana. Plus, she would be financially secure at the very least. He knew the latest draft of his will would make sure of that. He made a mental note to head over to his lawyer's office later to make sure his final wishes would be carried out soon.

He smiled sadly when she finally tore her gaze off the ring, placing the shiny object back into the original box and locking the piece of jewelry away in the top drawer of the side table, probably forever. He reached out to touch her shoulder, wanting to comfort her, forgetting for a moment that he was dead. He thought about how much it probably hurt her to look at that ring. It was better that she lock it up. _Out of sight, out of mind._ Although he knew Santana was unable to feel his touch, she had certainly felt _something _because she shivered, walking over to the closet to get a cardigan (her favorite one, he noted). He looked down at his hand. _Interesting._ He wondered for a moment whether or not there was a manual for this stuff because there certainly should be. He should probably ask Quinn for the handbook later. It still boggled his mind that the blonde had supernatural powers.

He glanced back over at Santana then, who was now sending a text to someone on her phone. He peered over her shoulder at the message.

_**Are you coming over? - S**_

A small smile appeared on his face as she sent the text to Puck. He was her best guy friend and _his _best friend. Finn knew Puck would take care of his girl, help her cope with his unexpected death. He decided now would probably be a good time to go and check on his parents and Kurt. Santana was in good hands. He closed his eyes and when he opened them again, a sad expression took over his face. His mom was _still _crying, Burt whispering consoling words into her ear. Kurt stood dutifully to the side, trying to keep himself together for the sake of their parents, but Finn could see he was moments away from a complete breakdown. Over the years, the four of them had really become a family and Finn hated that they were so distressed because of him. There was something so _wrong _about parents having to bury their own children. He should _never_ have gotten on that goddamn plane.

"The last conversation we had, we had an argument over him marrying Santana," Carole revealed as she continued to sob into his shoulder. "The last thing I said to my son was 'You're making the biggest mistake of your life.' _I _was making the biggest mistake of mine, Burt. I was making the biggest mistake of _mine_."

Finn felt himself tear up at her words, zoning out as Burt wrapped her into a tight hug, rocking her back and forth like a child in an effort to console her. He remembered that conversation well. He remembered the heated exchange of words. He remembered hanging up on her and the enormous guilt he had felt for doing so almost instantly afterward. He regretted holding off apologizing to her until after the wedding, having been bitter about her insistence that she would _not _be attending the event. Watching her so broken up over their last conversation with each other now, he felt like a terrible son. Every word she had said during that phone conversation had been true, but he had been so determined not to admit to her accusations out loud. Saying them aloud would have made them too real for him and he was afraid he would have called off the wedding as a result. He felt horrible now.

_"You love her Finn," Carole insisted, trying to get through to him. "You are not in love with her. There is a difference, a fine difference, but nonetheless, a difference. You are making a huge mistake. You may not realize that now, at this very moment, but you are going to regret this one day. You and I both know who you want to be walking down that aisle toward you two weeks from now. You've always wanted it to be her."_

_She didn't need to say her name for him to know who she had meant._

_"Mom, we have been through this a thousand times," he pleaded with her, starting to get really frustrated with this repetitive conversation. "I am marrying Santana. I love her. I want her to be my wife, okay?"_

_"So, why does she have a generic diamond from Tiffany's on her finger then, hmmm?" his mom continued to challenge him. "Why didn't you give her the family ring?"_

_It was hardly generic, he mused to himself. He had had that thing custom made for her, but Finn knew what Carole had meant by that word._

_"Santana wouldn't have wanted the family ring," he explained simply, hating that his mother was still doing this to him two weeks before the wedding. "She likes to own new things, not things that once belonged to other people. You know that."_

_He heard his mom scoff from the other end of the line, clearly not buying his bullshit. Then again, when had she ever?_

_"Please. I'm old, not stupid. You and I both know you didn't give Santana the ring because you had always meant for that ring to go on Quinn Fabray's finger," Carole called him out, wanting her son to stop deluding himself and face the cold, hard truth. "It would have been too painful for you to see the family ring on Santana's finger for the rest of your life."_

_Her words had struck a nerve and he immediately acted out, masking his vulnerability with anger._

_"Stop! Just stop! You have no idea what you're talking about!" Finn shouted into the phone loud enough that Carole had to hold the phone away from her ear on her end. "I've been with Santana for three years now. Three fucking years! Do you really think I would have stayed with her for so long if I didn't have real feelings for her?"_

_"Finn!" his mom yelled back, hoping that raising her voice might pound her words into his head. "No one's saying you don't love Santana. You're just never going to love her the way you do Quinn. You're never going to love anyone the way you do Quinn. A mother knows these things about her child. You never stopped loving her. Why is that so hard for you to admit?"_

_"Mom, I am not having this discussion anymore! I'm twenty six years old! I will live my life how I want. I will marry who I want. You have no say in anything I do whatsoever. Stop meddling in my life, especially my love life," he insisted, the words escaping from the hollows of his throat and flowing from his mouth before he was able to stop them._

_"I see," Carole replied and the tone of her voice made him regret his disrespectful ramblings almost instantly. "Well then, I hope the wedding goes well, Finn. I will certainly not be in attendance to watch you make one of the biggest mistakes of you life. I doubt your father will be either."_

_Her final words stung, bringing up that somewhat settled anger once more and he grunted out a harsh 'fine' before hanging up on her. He'd never hung up on his mom without a proper goodbye before. Finn collapsed onto his office chair with an annoyed sigh, thinking about calling to apologize, but ultimately, his stubbornness won over. After awhile of fruitless contemplation, he got up from his seat, keying the familiar combination into his safe. The only other person who knew of the combination was his lawyer. He had set it to Quinn's birthday._

_He rummaged through the various items that were held in the metal box. There were several photo albums filled with pictures of him and Quinn together. He had kept every gift she had ever given him, been with her for every step of her career without her knowledge. He was always the first to get a copy of any magazine or newspaper she ever appeared in. He had copies of every interview she had done, every movie or TV show she had been in. Then, his eyes fell onto the object he was looking for. Wrapped in his baby blanket (the one that had been meant for Drizzle) was the family ring, the one that had always been meant for her, the one that he couldn't give to Santana for the exact reason his mother had stated. Santana wasn't Quinn._

_He opened the box and observed the ring for a moment, using his finger to trace the intricate details of the design. This would have looked beautiful on her finger, he thought to himself. It would have looked right, but he quickly dispelled the ridiculous thought from his mind. Quinn and him had had many chances and each time, one or both of them had managed to screw things up. She had clearly completely moved on with her life, so why did he insist on being the idiot who was hanging on? With that persuasive thought in mind, he slammed the door of the safe shut, swearing to never open it again as he always did, but this time, he was determined to follow through._

As he stood in front of the same safe now, he couldn't stop the tears from coming, his heart clenched with regret.

_So apparently, ghosts could cry too._


	3. Best Kept Secret

**A/N:** This chapter refused to cooperate with me for awhile. Happy reading anyway and reviews would be much appreciated. Also, a special thanks to my lovely anons. I wish I could reply to your reviews.

**Best Kept Secret**

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><p>Puck slammed the door to his apartment shut. Finn was <em>dead<em>. His best friend was dead without knowing that he had been screwing his girl. Puck had made a habit out of messing with his girls since high school, starting with Quinn. Finn deserved better he knew, but he was still fucking bitter that Hudson had had the one girl he had always wanted, the one girl who had never seen him as more than the guy she used to make Finn jealous from time to time. Sure, that was a long time ago. Hell, Rachel was dating some other lucky bastard now, but still, every time he saw him, he thought about _her _and then he would get all depressed and shit and go and screw whichever girl Finn was currently into. He had been meaning to tell him everything soon, honest. Too little too late apparently and now, _he _was going to have to be the one to live with this for the rest of his life. It was enough to make him want to end it.

He was prepared to head to his bedroom and crash, but his guilt weakened him and he ended up sitting on the floor of the dimly lit hallway wondering how the fuck he had gotten himself here to this point in his life. The future had seemed bright when he had graduated from the hellhole known as McKinley. He had stayed out of trouble for the most part and worked hard to pull up his grades senior year. The day he had received his acceptance letter from NYU was probably one of the best days of his life, having applied in the first place because he knew _she _would be there. His mother had been proud of him. Hannah had been proud of him, but most importantly, _Rachel _had been proud of him for getting his act together. Of course, fucking Hudson was there too on the first day of classes. Puck should have known, but like most everyone else, he had expected Finn to stay in Lima, to attend OSU.

He had spent the next four years of his life pretty much reliving high school, witnessing the ups and downs of their tumulus relationship up and until they broke up for good at graduation. Even all the times they were apart, Rachel had never shown any interest in being more than friends with him and each time, her unintentional rejection cut him deeper and deeper. Sleeping with any _other _girl Finn was ever interested in was a coping mechanism of sorts for him. It was certainly a shitty thing to do. Anyone with any semblance of a moral compass would agree, but Puck had started to care less and less as the years drug on. He only started caring again when the news of his best friend's death had first reached his ears. Needless to say, Finn had eventually started to date Santana and Rachel had eventually moved on to some guy named Josh (who she was still, much to his dismay, dating at the moment). _What kind of pansy ass name was Josh anyway?_

Although his personal life was a bit of a sorry mess, Puck did have a great job. It was truly one of the only things keeping him going at the moment. He wrote music for people, songs that went to the top of the charts. It was odd hearing people sing his songs, the ones that were all written for one brown-eyed brunette, but he had never considered trying to record his own songs, never thought he was good enough to. He still wrote music for popular artists and he had some fame to his name, but his career was currently at a standstill for the most part. Nowadays, he spent most of his time screwing around or thinking about _her_. His friends often called him delusional, had asked him to give up on her time and time again. At times, he felt like he was fighting a battle that was already lost, but every night before he went to bed, he had renewed hope that Rachel Berry would be his one day. It was kind of pathetic actually.

His ringing phone interrupted his thoughts then and upon reading the message from Santana, he rolled his eyes. Honestly, the funeral had been a few hours ago and she was already messaging him for a booty call.

_**Fuck off, Santana. We're done. - P**_

_**Get off your high horse, Puckerman. I never forced you into having an affair with me. - S**_

_**You cannot be that much of a coldhearted bitch. You were at his funeral a few hours ago for Christ's sake. - P**_

_**Never said this was a booty call. Maybe I need a friend. - S**_

_**Text someone else. Oh wait, I forgot. You don't have any friends. - P**_

_**Fuck you. Oh wait, been there, done that on multiple occasions. Does Berry know you're such a backstabbing manwhore? - S**_

_**Keep her out of this, Satan. - P**_

_**Or what? You think I don't know who you're thinking about every time we screw? - S**_

_**Do not make me drag Brittany into this because I will. - P**_

_**Fine, truce, but I meant what I said. I need a friend. I may not have loved him, but I still cared. - S**_

Puck was about to respond with another scathing remark, but he remembered the last text Finn had sent him and ultimately resisted.

_**Take care of her while I'm gone. You're the best. - F**_

He felt his eyes get a little moist as he reread the text message and _fuck _this, because Puck didn't _do _emotions. Of course, Finn had meant during his business trip in the text, but now, he was _gone _gone and he felt like he owed it to him to follow through in the way his best friend had meant those words.

_**Alright, but no funny business, S. I mean it. What we had is over. - P**_

_**Yeah, yeah. Just get over here. Bring coffee. - S**_

He took a deep breath after reading her reply and closed his eyes, leaning his head against the wall to gather his thoughts. He had sworn to himself that night that sleeping with Santana behind Finn's back was a one-off, but then the Latina had come back for more and who was he to deny her, especially since she never said anything when he accidentally called her Rachel sometimes? Eventually, he stopped wallowing in self pity and stood up, a newfound look of determination on his face to turn over a new leaf as he grabbed a light jacket and headed out the door.

The coffee shop was only about ten minutes from his apartment and Cinderella was exactly a block away from there. He knew the route well, often bringing Santana coffee for their secret rendezvous. This time would be different though, he swore to himself. He had been serious about them being over. Letting Finn rest in peace was the least he could do. He pulled his jacket closer to his body as he neared the coffee shop, the familiar aromatic smell of the place assaulting his senses. It was a cool day in New York today. The sky was a dark grey and it was even raining a little, drizzling to be exact. _Drizzle_, he mused to himself, and then just like that, his thoughts were back on his dead best friend. _Fuck._

Although most people generally matured as they grew older, Puck realized now that maybe he hadn't. Maybe he was the only one who had held onto high school a little too tightly, to the _past _a little too tightly. In fact, his seventeen year old self would probably be disappointed in him right now. He ran a hand through his mohawk in frustration as he waited in line with the rest of them. He was going to be a better person or at least he was going to try his hardest to be. He really didn't like the person he had become. He had become a complete caricature of his high school self and it had taken his best friend dying for him to admit to this.

"Noah Puckerman," a familiar voice noted from behind him suddenly, interrupting his thoughts and he whirled around immediately to place a face with the voice. "I'd recognize that mohawk anywhere."

He found a pair of wide, green eyes staring into his own as he managed to muster up a laugh at her words.

"Yeah," he answered, grinning at her. "Amy, right? It's been awhile."

The last time he had seen Quinn's crazy ass roommate was when a few of them had crashed one of their parties at Columbia. It could have just been the alcohol talking at the time, but this chick _actually _thought she could tell whether someone was dead or not from a goddamn photo. _What a freak._ Then again, Puck supposed he had met a lot weirder. She was a nice girl minus the whole 'I have special powers' bullshit.

"That's right," she confirmed for him, returning his grin as they inched forward in the line. "I'm very sorry for your loss by the way. I know you and Finn were…best friends."

He frowned for a moment at her hesitation in saying the words 'best friends', but he quickly shrugged off the uneasy feeling she had given him. He was probably just being sensitive given the current circumstances, he reasoned inside his head.

"Yeah, we were," Puck confirmed, his guilt starting to become overbearing once more.

Honestly, he felt fucking guilty enough without having to be constantly reminded of his betrayal. He wished it wasn't drizzling outside. He wished he hadn't bumped into Amy. He wished he wasn't about to head to Cinderella to meet up with Finn's ex-fiancée. He wished his best friend was still fucking _alive_. He wished, he wished, he _wished_, but he knew that's all they were - wishes.

"What can I get you sir?" the barista asked him then from behind the counter, her smile faltering slightly as she observed his distressed expression. "Um, are you alright?"

"_Yes_," he snapped defensively before offering her an apologetic smile. "Can I get a large, black coffee and a caramel latte?"

"Absolutely," the girl answered, unperturbed by his earlier behavior.

She repeated his order to a coworker as he handed her a handful of bills.

Puck watched as the barista geared her attention toward Amy almost immediately afterward and said, "Hello, Officer Fischer. The usual?"

Beside him, Amy answered quite cheerfully, reaching into her purse for some cash, "As always, Mabel. Thanks a lot."

They stood in silence next to each other as they waited for their orders to be completed. It was tough to make conversation, since the only common factor between them was Quinn and Puck didn't even really talk to the blonde all that much. Every time he saw her, he only felt ashamed because he knew she knew his dirty little secret. After about five minutes (although it had seemed like an hour), their orders were ready. Puck gave Amy an awkward smile as he picked up his tray, heading toward the door and noticing her do the same. He was about to open the door for her, his hand already on the door handle when she paused, giving him a quizzical look.

"Do you have a…girlfriend?" she questioned, looking over his left shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he told her apologetically, recovering from his surprise. "You're a nice girl Amy, but I'm not interested."

Amy rolled her eyes at him, her eyes never leaving that space above his shoulder.

"Neither am I. You're not really my type," she assured him, adding for good measure, "Besides, I've got a boyfriend."

"So then, why did you ask?" he wondered, his mind reeling at the idea of him not being her type.

As far as he was concerned, he was _everyone's _type. He'd even had a couple of dudes hit on him once.

"Brunette? Cute smile?"she merely responded, avoiding his question.

Puck finally turned around to look in the direction she was looking in. There was _nothing _there. He secretly wondered exactly _how _crazy she had gotten since their last encounter.

"Um, no," he answered dutifully when his gaze landed on her again. "I don't really _do _girlfriends."

"Right," she murmured, pursing her lips in thought for moment. "You're not in a rush, are you? Do you have a minute?"

She cocked her head over toward an empty table, silently asking him to sit. Normally, he would have made up some excuse and gotten himself the hell out of there, but the look of genuine concern on her face worried him. He nodded slowly, already regretting his decision to stay as he went over to sit at the table she had indicated. He set the coffee tray down on the table and crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for her to explain herself to him. He watched in amusement as she took the seat across from him, leaning forward slightly, a _very _serious expression on her face.

"Do you remember I told you about that…ability of mine?" Amy questioned, her eyes darting left and right as she took a sip of her coffee, having set the ones for the rest of her team aside.

_Oh boy_, Puck thought to himself upon hearing her words. _Here we go._ This girl was clearly a few fries short of a Happy Meal. How she and Quinn had managed to become best friends he'd never know.

"Yeah, vaguely," he said, his demeanor nonchalant, his voice even more so. "Why do you ask?"

Wherever this conversation was going, he could only hope it would be a short one. He stole a glance at his watch. _Crap._ He shouldn't have agreed to stay. Santana got awfully pissy whenever he took more than fifteen minutes to get to her place. Then again, he was sort of in the mood to piss her off today, so why not indulge Amy for a moment or two?

"Well, since then, I've been developing my intuitive abilities," she started, even though she was well aware that Puck was a nonbeliever. "You see, everyone has an aura, Puck. Considering your best friend just passed away, your's is not all that surprising. It's heavy. You're sad. You're angry. You're _guilty_."

His eyes grew a little wider as she emphasized the word 'guilty', but again, he told himself he was simply reading into things.

"Look," Puck interrupted her, unable to hold back an eye roll any longer. "I think you're a great girl, Amy, but you're crazy. No one has intuitive abilities or whatever you want to call them, okay? That aura stuff also sounds like complete bullshit. My best friend just died. Anyone could have guessed that I was sad, angry, and guilty."

Amy chose to ignore him and went on. She was used to people thinking she was a freak or a fraud.

"Fair enough, but I haven't gotten to the core of this conversation yet," she told him, hoping he would humor her for a little longer. "Now, a person's aura is composed of many different layers so to speak. Whereas emotions are easily readable by anyone with intuitive abilities, there's a specific part of the aura that not everyone has the ability to decipher. I am one of the few who can as I've recently discovered."

She paused and Puck could tell she was hoping he would let her continue. He made a motion with his hand for her to keep going. _What the hell._

"Puck," she went on, smiling at him gratefully. "The people who are the most important to us exist as these balls of energy on either side of our shoulders. On your right, I see the faces of your mother and your younger sister or at least I assume that's them. On your left, I see a brunette with wide eyes and a pretty smile. I assumed earlier that she was your girlfriend."

Puck nodded as he continued to sit there and pretend to listen to her nonsense. Near the end of her little speech, however, she got his attention. To his knowledge, Amy had never met Rachel before. He was sure she was talking about Rachel though. _How did she…? _He shook the ridiculous thought out of his mind. _Oh Christ._ Now, _he _was going insane. He was almost about to actually _believe _that she had intuitive abilities for a moment there.

"Why isn't Finn there then?" he challenged her, calling her bluff. "He's my best friend, right? He means a lot to me too."

"He's dead," Amy explained to him swiftly. "Our energies die when we do."

He starred at her for a moment before he finally snapped. That had been the final straw. He did _not _appreciate her making all this crap up. What was her angle? He stood up from his seat abruptly and grabbed the coffee tray from the table.

"Uh huh. Well, it was lovely to see you again, Amy, but I'm afraid I have to run," he informed her curtly, both of them well aware that he was merely trying to end this conversation. "Say hello to Officer Evans for me."

He didn't even wait for her to acknowledge his departure, one foot already out the front door, but her next words stopped him in his tracks. They were enough to make him turn on his heels and face her one last time.

"Rachel," she whispered, eyes closed. "Her name is Rachel."

He let the name hover in the space between them for a moment before he spat angrily, gripping onto the tray in his hands just a little tighter, "Quinn could have mentioned her to you."

"_Quinn's_ friend Rachel?" Amy questioned, a surprised expression passing over her face, shock in her voice.

Her spirit guides had painted the name Rachel in her mind, but she had had no idea that the sweet brunette over his left shoulder was Rachel _Berry_. Well then, she would certainly have to inform Quinn about this as well.

"Pretending to be surprised," Puck commented, shaking his head in disbelief as a scoff escaped from his lips. "You're really something, you know that? Actually, I think it's kind of pathetic that you go around fucking with people's heads."

Amy seemed unaffected by the harsh tone of his voice. Instead, she smiled at him sympathetically. Whether he believed her or not was of little importance to her. What she did know was that Rachel Berry needed help from someone, _anyone_. Puck bored his eyes into hers, daring her to say anything else. He was hardly surprised when she did, but still, her final words shook him to his very core because no one had called him that in a long time. Besides his mom and Hannah, Rachel was the only one who ever had.

"Noah," Amy warned him, a distant look in her eyes as she broke the news to him. "She's fading. Her energy is fading."


	4. Wounds That Never Heal

**A/N:** Thanks for being patient for this chapter. Reviews would be nice. Please keep in mind that although Finn and Quinn are the core couple of the story, the focus will not always be on them.

**Wounds That Never Heal**

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><p>Quinn pressed the call button, attempting to reach Amy again, but to no avail. Every time she connected to her cell, she would get the same monotone message. <em>The person you are trying to reach is unavailable at the moment. Please try again later.<em> Amy almost always kept her cell phone on, so the blonde was left to wonder why this time was an exception. She must be working on a _super _important case to be ignoring her calls, Quinn concluded.

She continued to stare helplessly at the phone in her hand, unsure of what to do next. On the one hand, she never called Amy at the office. This time, however, the blonde was seriously considering trying to reach her at work. She desperately needed answers and this _was _an emergency of sorts. With a look of determination on her face, Quinn punched in the numbers for her work line, drumming her fingers on the tabletop nervously as she anxiously waited for Amy to answer. _Please pick up. Please pick up. Please pick up. _After three rings or so, she heard the click of the phone being picked up and practically jumped for joy.

"Thank God," she started to ramble almost instantly, knowing that once she explained her predicament, Amy would forgive her for the intrusive call. "Now, I know I'm never supposed to try to reach you at the department, but I have an emergency, like a _huge _emergency, Amy."

"I would suggest you call 911 for that, Quinn," came a familiar voice from the other end of the line, one that was certainly not that of her friend's.

"Sam," Quinn returned quite pleasantly, spinning around once in her computer chair.

She was kind of embarrassed about her earlier outburst, but she knew Sam was merely playing around with her.

"May I speak with Amy please?" she added politely, hoping he would let her through.

Sam was her supervisor, so he would have every right not to. He chuckled on the other end of the line, running a hand through his hair as he leaned backward slightly to watch his girlfriend continue to grill a suspect in the next room. (Otherwise, he would have let Amy answer the call, knowing that Quinn would only call here when absolutely necessary.)

"Negative, Quinn. Amy has her hands full at the moment," he informed her before adding as a joke, "Also, I would prefer that you call me _Officer Evans _while I'm on duty."

Quinn frowned in disappointment at his response, tucking a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. _What was she going to do?_ She really needed to talk to Amy. She really needed some guidance from her. She let out a small laugh when she heard his request.

"Whatever," she muttered, rolling her eyes. "You'll always be dorky Sam Evans to me. You still obsessed with 'Avatar', doing those silly impressions, etc.?"

She had sworn to distance herself from the McKinley crowd when she had graduated, but with Amy being her best friend, avoiding Sam had been near impossible. Still, she was glad the two of them had kept in touch. Sam was like a brother to her now. He was always looking out for her and truthfully, Quinn needed protecting sometimes.

"Hey!" Sam protested, jumping a little from the loud 'wham!' that came from Amy slamming her hand down on the table in an attempt to scare their suspect into talking. "I happen to know someone who loves me in spite of all those dorky things."

Quinn rolled her eyes again, but she meant well. Sam and Amy were such a perfect couple sometimes, she got nauseous just thinking about them. To be honest though, she spent most of the time envying them. She longed for a happy, stable relationship like they had. She was happy with Richard, but sometimes she wondered whether or not she could be happier. She knew she could be, but the only person who _could _make her happier was now dead. _Oh, the irony_, she thought demurely to herself.

"Yeah, yeah," she echoed, waving off his words and effectively cutting through her own thoughts.

She could hear Amy yelling at some poor soul through the phone now. She felt sorry for her suspects, guilty or not. When her ex-roommate was through with them, her victims had usually pissed themselves. A few cried even. Quinn remembered Amy telling her of one who had broken down in gut-wrenching sobs. Amy rarely had to reveal her abilities to crack down on suspects, but when she did, they were normally left shaking from head to toe. Quinn couldn't ask for a more kickass best friend.

"Never let her go, Sam. She's probably one of the only girls out there who loves when a guy talks to her in Na'vi," Quinn reminded him, knowing that warning him was probably pointless.

Sam was head over heels in love with her. Anyone with half a brain could see that.

"Oh, so she's been keeping you up to date on our sex life then?" Sam questioned, still evidently keen on teasing her.

"_Jesus Christ_, Sam," the blonde chided him, suddenly feeling nauseous again. "Of course not. Keep that stuff to yourself."

He let out a loud laugh, having learned over the years how exactly to push her buttons.

"You're probably just irritable because you haven't been laid in awhile, Fabray," he guessed before frowning at the thought of her boyfriend.

Sam had met him only once before and from what he had gathered from their short conversation, Richard was very much only in love with himself. Sure, he told Quinn he loved her and stuff, but Sam could tell his words were hollow. He was very good at reading people and Richard was simply all kinds of wrong for the blonde. Still, he had never had the heart to tell her of his suspicions, since she seemed to be so happy with him and what right did he have to burst her bubble? Quinn really deserved to be happy. He wanted her to be. Both he and Amy did.

"Just three days ago actually, thank you very much," she informed him with utmost satisfaction, a smirk starting to form on her face.

She and Richard had very busy schedules and rarely found the time to have a little fun, but when they did, she _did _enjoy herself. She would hardly call the act "making love", but he _was _quite skilled in bed to be fair.

"Ugh, too much information," Sam voiced, both his tone and expression mirroring her earlier disgust.

A silence fell between them afterward and during that indeterminate period, something more serious began to cling to the air.

"So," Quinn started awkwardly, their previous joking around only having been a way of avoiding the larger topic at hand. "I didn't see you at the funeral today. Were you there?"

He shook his head, casting his gaze down in shame. He probably should have been there out of respect for an old classmate, but he was really swamped at work at the moment.

"No. I'm working on several really big cases right now," he explained, trying not to make his guilt apparent over the phone. "I'm _legit _swimming in work here. Besides, Finn and I barely talked since high school except for those annual glee club reunions, you know?"

"Yeah, I know what you mean," she assured him, feeling her eyes well up a little as she remembered how little she had spoken with Finn as well since McKinley.

She _should _have kept in touch with Finn like she had Sam. So, he had broken her heart, chosen Rachel, _heck_, chosen _Santana _over her, but they could have still been friends. She _knew _they could have been. Then again, when had Finn and her ever been something as simple as friends? They were either with each other or wanting each other from a distance.

"How are you doing with that by the way? I know this must be hard for you. He was your first love and all. You never forget your first love," Sam recalled the words she had spoken in high school before apologizing to her for being so insensitive, "Sorry. I guess I still have a bit of a trouty mouth after all these years."

He had mentioned his old high school nickname in hopes that she would laugh, thus easing the tension of the conversation. Unfortunately for him, hope tended to breed eternal misery.

"No, that's okay," Quinn assured him, wiping away a fallen tear and attempting to smile. "Uh, look, can you get Amy to call me back at her earliest convenience? It's important. I wouldn't have called here otherwise."

"Yeah sure," Sam promised her, hating himself for making her cry as he fiddled mindlessly with the phone cord. "Wait, you're not asking for details about the investigation, right? Because you know we can't give you _any _information. Everything's strictly confidential."

His words acted to compose her. No tears fell and she sat up a little straighter, listening intently to his words.

"Hold up, you two are in charge of investigating Finn's murder?" Quinn asked, knowing that this would _definitely _complicate her talk with Amy later.

He shrugged upon hearing her query, not quite understanding why she sounded so surprised, a little upset even.

"To be honest, my supervisor wanted to give the case to a colleague of mine, but the guy's a slacker. I may not have been Finn's best friend or anything like that, but I'd like him to rest in peace as soon as possible, to give the people who loved him the closure they deserve. Don't worry, Quinn. I'm on this case. It's my top priority. I've already got a few of my team members following up on a few leads. Plus, Amy will be a big help as usual," he added, his voice loaded with confidence.

"Has she confirmed…?" she trailed off, knowing Sam would be very much aware of what she was talking about.

Sam knew about Amy and her intuitive abilities. He was one of the few who did. The first time his supervisor had introduced Amy to their investigative team and told them how she would contribute exactly, he had (quite uncontrollably) burst out into laughter. His team had followed, everyone simply thinking that Amy was part of some clever ruse cooked up by their boss. When neither Amy nor his supervisor had laughed along, he had been _really _freaked out, writing his new colleague off as a delusional freak and starting to question his boss' sanity.

She had proven herself to him and his team since then of course. Well, he supposed they were _her _team now as well. They had come to really respect her. Amy was especially helpful when dealing with missing person cases. It made a huge difference for the police department to know whether or not they were looking for someone dead or alive. She also had a knack for sensing _where _these people were. Her abilities were not _always _on point, but they helped a lot in terms of narrowing down the seemingly infinite possibilities.

Needless to say, working on so many cases alongside her, Sam had eventually fallen hard for his fellow officer. Asking her out had been one of the greatest challenges of his life, having been afraid that she would laugh in his face when he did in the same way he had in hers when they had first met.

_"I knew you were going to ask me out," Amy noted, giving him a teasing smile as her index finger circled the ring of her coffee mug._

_"Oh?" he responded, leaning against the side of her desk with a surprised look on his face. "Because of the whole psychic thing, right?"_

_"No," she corrected him, rolling her eyes at his assumption. "Because I heard you trying to work up the courage to ask me earlier in the staff room. Do you normally talk in Na'vi to yourself?"_

Oh yeah, after that, he had fallen for her hard. Any girl who could recognize and understand Na'vi was a keeper in his books. He was going to marry her. In fact, he was planning to pop the question soon, maybe after they had solved Finn's murder.

"Well, she _was _getting mixed signals at first," he started hesitantly, his palm getting a little sweaty from holding the phone for so long.

"Mixed signals?" Quinn repeated, sitting up a little straighter at his words, which had undoubtedly peaked her curiosity. "What the hell does that mean?"

Sam sighed, taking note that his girlfriend would probably be awhile longer.

"Uh, mixed signals as in, we got her to look at a photo of him," Sam explained, not attempting to give her any hope. "She said he kept alternating between dead and alive according to her readings."

"I've never heard of that happening before," Quinn breathed, her breathing uneven as she was in slight shock. "So, does that mean that…"

"No," Sam corrected her firmly, hating to be the bearer of bad news. "Finn's dead. We ran a DNA test on the corpse. It's Finn. No doubt about it. I'm really sorry, Quinn, but you know Amy's abilities aren't perfect. She's made some mistakes before."

Quinn nodded, even though she knew the motion would not be seen by the blond. For a moment there, she had allowed herself to hope. Maybe they had identified the body wrong or something. Maybe he was still alive somewhere in Mexico, but DNA didn't lie and she was back to wallowing in silent sorrow.

"Hey listen, Quinn," Sam finished, needing to hang up on her. "I've got stuff to do here and Amy doesn't look like she's going to crack this guy anytime soon. Can I get her to call you as soon as possible? What's this emergency of yours? Can I help?"

"Uh no," Quinn answered. "Just have her call me. Thanks Sam."

She hung up soon afterward, putting her face in her hands in obvious exhaustion. She really needed to talk to someone, but no one knew about her abilities expect for her best friend. She would have to explain her gift to Sam before voicing her concerns to him and she really didn't want to do that.

She whirled around in her chair and thought to herself for a moment. Finn realized he had been murdered and seemed to accept his death. Why wasn't he ready to cross over? Quinn concluded that he might 1) be required to piece together the events leading up to his death and 2) need closure. She had never dealt with a murder victim before. Perhaps, he needed to know that the person who had killed him was behind bars before he could depart from this world completely.

She shivered as she thought about how Finn had died. His corpse had been burned beyond recognition. Whatever had happened before then, he must have suffered a terrible death and Finn deserved so much better than that. She knew when Amy called later, she would have to beg her to give her some details about the case. She wanted to help track down his murderer. It was the least she could do for him. Plus, seeing as she was the only one who could see and interact with his ghost, she could be a big unofficial help with the case.

"So, what was that call you really needed to make?" Finn asked from behind her then as he reappeared by her side.

She turned around, having expected him to come back soon, her lips tugging up into a smile as she saw him again. She knew that every time he disappeared, she would have to worry about whether or not that was the last time she would see him. There had been instances where the people she was helping had managed to cross over on their own.

"I have a friend who has some intuitive abilities as well," she explained, suddenly remembering he had gone to check up on his family and Santana. "I thought she might be able to help."

Quinn was a little disappointed. He didn't seem at all distraught which meant that Santana and Puck were behaving themselves for now. She wanted _so _badly to tell him what she knew, what she had known, but whenever she opened her mouth to try, she chickened out.

"Well? Can she?" he questioned eagerly, not failing to notice how happy she seemed to see him again, the idea pleasing him very much.

"Oh, I have no idea yet," Quinn answered, heading toward the kitchen to make herself something to eat. "She was busy when I called. I'll let you know when she gets back to me."

"What can I do for now then?" he wanted to know, following behind her,

He was kind of bored of the being a ghost thing already.

"Trying to remember the events leading up to your death would be helpful," she said, taking the ingredients out of the refrigerator for her perfect sandwich. "I have a feeling you won't be ready to crossover until we find out who killed you."

"Will do," he promised her, sticking his hands in his pocket and rocking back and forth on his heels. "Anything else?"

She shook her head as she started to spread mayonnaise on a slice of bread.

"Nope, you're free to do whatever in the meantime," she informed him with a wave of her hand.

When he stared at her blankly in return, she laughed.

"Come on! You're a _ghost_! The possibilities are quite endless," she encouraged him, giving him a wide smile as she finished making her dinner.

He looked down at his feet and remained silent for a moment upon hearing her words.

"Actually, I'd much rather be alive," he whispered and instantly the tension between them earlier was back, Quinn kicking herself mentally for having made his death seem like a joke.

"Right, sorry," she murmured in return, giving him a look to let him know her words had been meant to be harmless.

Finn gave her a tight-lipped smile, shrugging his shoulders at her.

"No worries," he voiced, taking a few steps closer to her. "Quinn, do you think I could stay here tonight. I know I have a lot of options as to where I can go, but I like having someone who can see me, who I can talk to. It makes me feel…_alive_."

There was a much deeper meaning to his words, but he doubted she would have heard them that way. He glanced at her, his eyes practically pleading with her to say yes.

"Yeah, sure," she assured him almost immediately, wanting to make this being dead thing as easy for him as she could. "Just no creeping on me in the shower."

She stuck her tongue out at him playfully. For some reason, him being dead made her realize that nothing that had happened in the past mattered. They could start with a clean slate from this point forward.

He chuckled at her attempt at humor and reminded her teasingly, "Nothing I haven't seen before."

She tensed slightly for a split second, but then visibly relaxed again, forcing a smile. Thankfully, Finn didn't seem to notice.

"Yeah, guess so," she voiced, taking a bite of her sandwich. "You want one?"

"Funny, Fabray," he commented, taking a seat on the chair across from her.

There was a small pause afterward as the two of them sat there smiling at one another, but then his face grew more serious and he made a move to touch her hand before remembering he couldn't.

"It should have been us," he blurted out and upon witnessing the shocked look on her face, he wish he hadn't.

_So much for a clean slate._


	5. Blind Confession

**A/N:** Thank you to my lovely readers for always being so patient with my updates and to all of you who take the time to leave such nice reviews. You're the best!

**Blind Confession**

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><p>Finn became more and more nervous as she continued to sit there and merely stare at him, her mouth hanging open. Neither of them spoke for the longest time, making the unfolding scene seem more and more surreal as time passed. He shifted slightly in his seat, breaking the static state of the room and thus, bringing Quinn out of the trance she was in.<p>

"_What?_" Quinn finally managed to stutter, gripping her sandwich tightly in one hand before dropping it onto her plate with a resonating thud.

"_What?" Quinn shouted, unable to believe what Finn had said._

"_Rachel was ready to sleep with me tonight," he slurred, holding a half empty bottle of beer in his hand. "She was going to let me take her virginity, but I couldn't."_

_Quinn automatically let her eyes fall south of the equator, raising an eyebrow at him. He followed her gaze and then shook his head vigorously._

"_No," he corrected her, stumbling over his feet a little. "I can, but you wouldn't let me."_

_The blonde rolled her eyes, helping him inside against her better judgment. She should have just left him out on the front steps. Thankfully, she was home alone at the moment at the very least._

"_What are you talking about, Hudson?" she questioned, watching him collapse onto the couch. "I mean, honestly, who gets drunk on half a bottle of beer?"_

"_You! I kept seeing you while I was kissing her, so I had to get out of there!" he emphasized, dropping the now empty bottle onto the floor._

_He held up eight fingers, probably letting her know that that was his eighth one._

"_Boys," Quinn muttered, trying not to let his words affect her._

_After he had dumped her in junior year, she swore that that would be the last time she would ever be fooled by him. He always went back to Rachel eventually. Those two were like forever attached to one another. She had come to accept that._

"_Lucy, will you be my girlfriend again? I love you," he drawled, his eyes fluttering as he started to fall asleep._

_She sat up a little straighter, alarmed by his words. She wished he had never said them. How dare he after all this time!_

"_Don't call me that. No way in hell and you don't," she answered, picking up the phone and punching in Puck's number._

_He picked up after a few rings. Thank you God._

"'_Sup?" Puck greeted her, Quinn thrilled that he sounded very much sober._

"_Hey Puck," she said in return, sitting on the edge of the couch. "Can you come over and get Finn? He showed up on my doorstep drunk."_

"_Yeah, and he left Rachel here crying," he answered, sounding very much as frustrated as her. "I'm a little busy trying to calm her down here."_

"_I don't care. Deal with Rachel and then get your ass over here and get him out of my damn house," she insisted, not wanting to deal with the mixed emotions she was feeling at the moment simply because of him being here._

"_Scared to face your feelings?" Puck teased her, knowing how she still felt about Finn._

"_I could say the same for you right now," she retorted, not amused in the least bit. "What's it like comforting you're best friend's girl, the one you're secretly oh so in love with?"_

"_Screw you, Fabray," he spat, this close to hanging up on her._

_The topic was a touchy one for him._

"_You did that," she reminded him, starting to get even more impatient. "Got me pregnant, remember?"_

"_Whatever," he finished. "You'll have to deal because Rachel's really distraught right now. I doubt she'll calm down anytime soon and I'm sure she wouldn't let me leave her anyway. Hudson's your problem I'm afraid."_

"_Hasn't he always been?" Quinn answered, glancing over at him drooling on the couch, a sigh of defeat leaving her lips. "Later Puckerman."_

As the memory faded, Quinn found herself glaring at him and upon instinct, he pushed his seat back to move further away from her. He knew that look in her eyes all too well. Clearly, he had upset her with his outburst. He sighed. It was too late to take his words back now, but on second thought, why should he? He had only been speaking the truth.

"I am going to pretend you never said that," the blonde continued, closing her eyes as she stressed every word. "_We _are going to pretend you never said that. Okay?"

He leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. The look in his eyes was challenging. He was determined to have her open up to him, to break down the walls she had spent years building up. After all, he was already dead. What did he have to lose?

"Why? I meant what I said Quinn," he insisted as she looked up at him again. "It should have been you. I should never have broken up with you junior year. I should never have gone out with Rachel or Santana after that. It should have been _you_, Q. It should have been _you _walking down the aisle toward me in two weeks."

She broke her gaze from his at once, shoving her chair back with a loud screech as she had lost her appetite. How could he do this to her? How could he tell her all of this now that he was _dead_? She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't notice him follow her to the sink.

"Quinn, look at me," he pleaded with her, reaching out to grab her hand. "Talk to me. _Please._"

They both watched helplessly as his hand went through hers. Quinn shook her head at him, trying to reason this out for him, for _herself_. She kept her back turned to him, unable to look him in the eyes.

"Finn, you don't really think that," she explained to him, her voice a little shaky. "I know what you're thinking. You're thinking that this weird connection we have is some sign that we were supposed to be together or something, that this is some sort of divine intervention. It isn't. This is what I do. I've done this for countless of other people."

She turned off the faucet, wiping her hands on the small towel next to the sink. Still, she refused to look at him, to _face _him.

"_No!_" he shouted before calming himself down and returning to his earlier placid tone of voice. "No. You _know _that's not it. Look, I don't know when I'm crossing over, Quinn. I'm still not even a hundred percent sure this is all happening right now, but what I do know is that I've never stopped loving you. I need you to know that before I go, whenever that may be."

He could see the tears forming in her eyes, threatening to spill over and he wished he could kiss them away, but he couldn't. So, he continued.

"Ever since we broke things off in high school, I've been trying to distance myself from you," he confessed, tears starting to form in his own eyes as years of pent up frustration were finally released. "You always thought we were destined to stay in Lima? I did everything I could to get out of there. I've been running. I've been a coward, but I'm not going to be anymore. I'm _dead_. I've got nothing to lose. I love you, Quinn. I always have and I always will."

She whirled around to face him then, her eyes more livid than ever. Quinn was angry, really angry.

"You're also fucking selfish," she spat at him, her chest heaving as she tried to take deep breaths to calm herself down.

She was shaking from head to toe.

"_You're _the one who's dead," she reminded him, wafting her hand through his chest to emphasize her point. "_I_ still have a life to live. You've got nothing to lose, but I've got _everything _to lose."

She paused, giving him a chance to say something, to take back what he had said, but he remained silent. He only continued to stare at her, a sigh escaping from her lips in response.

"What do you want me to say, Finn?" Quinn asked, attempting to form coherent sentences.

She had so much to say to him, but her thoughts were starting to get slightly jumbled. It was like all those thoughts she had kept to herself over the years were just trampling over one another to get out now, to finally be free.

"Do you want me to agree with you?" she continued, her lips quivering slightly, still very much in defense mode. "Is that what you want? Do you want me to tell you that I never stopped loving you either? That my whole life right now is pretty much a lie? A lie I've built for myself so I wouldn't have to think about what could have been constantly? That I've been running too? _Is that what you want to hear, Finn?_"

He let out a soft chuckle, at his silliness? At hers? He wasn't sure, but he knew he was in complete disbelief over how she was reacting to his admission at the moment. He was so naïve to have thought that she would be overjoyed by his confession, _return _his sentiment even.

"Don't do me any favors," he whispered, taking a step back from her, finally acknowledging that he might have made a huge mistake.

He swiveled around on his heels and started to walk away from her. He was still undecided as to where he was going. All he knew was that he should probably leave, maybe even never come back. He could probably stumble onto someone else like Quinn. There was no reason to trouble her with this crossing over crap or anything at all.

"Of course," she scoffed, a sarcastic chuckle escaping from the hollows of her throat. "This is so typical of you. Open Pandora's box and then leave me to clean up the mess. Guess some of us never left high school behind, huh Finn?"

"Oh, that's rich, Quinn," he retorted, turning around and walking toward her again. "Because I don't think _you _ever left high school behind either. Besides, I only know one person who's in denial in this kitchen right now and it's _obviously _not me."

He paused to gather his thoughts, licking his lips as he ran a hand through his hair in frustration.

"Quinn," Finn started again, a mere breath away from her now. "I know that this conversation won't amount to anything significant. The fact of the matter is that I'm dead. You're still alive. We're in two completely different places, but wouldn't simply knowing be nice? So, I'll say it again. I've made a lot of mistakes in my life, but you? You were never one of them. Not holding onto you? Now, _that _was my biggest mistake ever. I could never fall out of love with you, Fabray."

He reached up to cup her cheek as useless as the motion was and she felt herself letting her guard down as she took in his words. A single tear rolled down her face as she closed her eyes. She leaned into his touch, the coolness of his hand making her shiver, but in her mind, she only remembered the warmth she would feel whenever he touched her. Her lips curved up into a small smile as she remembered and then suddenly, she opened her eyes, looking past him or rather through him. Immediately, her smile turned into a frown.

"_Richard?_ What are you doing here?" she clarified, stepping away from him and into the kitchen counter.

She panicked for a moment, glancing back and forth between Finn and Richard before realizing that only _she _could see the former. She told herself to get a grip before walking past him to get to Richard, who instinctively wrapped her up into a big bear hug.

"I thought I would check up on you," he told her, caressing her cheek as Finn had earlier.

She flinched slightly at his touch and she bit her lip nervously as a confused expression passed over his face.

"See how you're doing," he continued, shrugging off her odd behavior. "Have you been crying, babe? Are you okay?"

She coughed once to clear her throat, reaching up to self-consciously wipe any lingering tear stains from her porcelain face.

"I was just rehearsing for that scene tomorrow," she quickly excused her current state, grabbing a copy of the script hurriedly from the kitchen table.

Finn sat on the kitchen counter and brooded as he watched their conversation unfold. Richard had interrupted probably the most important moment of his life.

"The hospital scene?" Richard clarified, taking the script from her hands and flipping to the appropriate page. "You're going to do great, Q. You always do. Don't sweat about it so much."

He kissed her on the tip of her nose affectionately. Quinn shifted her gaze over to Finn for a moment, who was clenching his fists at his sides. _Good God. What had she gotten herself into?_

"Thanks," she responded, giving him a small smile. "You really didn't have to come."

He pulled her into a tight hug, murmuring into her hair, "Of course I did. I know you're not as strong as you always pretend to be. Come on. Let's get to bed. Maybe we can have some comfort sex."

He laughed as he pulled away from her and led her toward the bedroom. They both knew he was only kidding about the last part of course. Finn, however, was hardly in the mood for jokes. He followed them into the bedroom, unable to leave Quinn's side. The blonde kept shooting him looks to go away, but he refused, standing his ground.

"_Let's get to bed. Maybe we can have some comfort sex," Finn teased, tickling Quinn's sides as they stepped into her room._

"_You wish," Quinn scoffed, giggling and trying to squirm out of his grasp._

_She was home alone for the weekend and so, naturally, she had asked Finn to stay with her. She hated sleeping by herself. Plus, she had gotten into an argument with her mother before she left and was feeling a little blue._

"_Actually, getting to hold you while you sleep tonight?" he corrected her, continuing his tickle attack. "Dream come true already."_

_Quinn lost her balance and fell onto the bed then, her blonde hair splayed around her head like a halo. Her giggles subsided as she looked up at him. Finn had both of his hands on either side of her head, supporting himself so that he would not crush her. She reached a hand up to touch his cheek, giving him the sweetest smile._

"_Thanks Finn," she murmured, staring into his eyes. "For being there for me."_

_Finn nodded, rolling off to the side before reaching an arm out to pull her close. He hated when her mother inadvertently made her insecure about herself. She was so beautiful, the most beautiful girl in the world in his opinion, and he wished he could see herself through his eyes all the time._

"_I'm always going to be there for you, Quinn," he whispered into her hair. "I promise. You'll always have me no matter what."_

_She rolled over on top of him, straddling his hips as she leaned down to kiss him._

"_You're all I need Finn Christopher Hudson," she admitted before leaning in to murmur seductively into his ear. "Now, how about that comfort sex?"_

"I'll just go wash up," she told Richard as she snapped herself out of her thoughts, keeping her cool.

She kissed his cheek lightly before strolling into the bathroom, knowing that Finn would follow her.

Once the door was closed and locked behind her, she hissed, "You can stay Finn, but you cannot be here!"

"Are you going to sleep with him?" he questioned, watching her through her mirror as she washed her face.

He thought Richard's tone had been teasing earlier, but he wanted to be sure.

"He was only joking," she said, not knowing why she felt the need to reassure him. "Besides, I _have _slept with him before you know. I mean, I _do_. He's my boyfriend, Finn."

"You should break up with him," he murmured as she reached past him for some tissues. "_Please _break up with him."

"There you go being selfish again," she told him, being reminded that she had successfully avoided telling him that she had never stopped loving him either earlier. "You're _dead_, Finn. Richard's _alive _and he loves me."

"But do you love him?" he challenged, pressing his lips into a thin line of frustration. "Look me in the eyes and tell me you _love him _love him and I'll never bring up my feelings for you again while we wait for me to crossover. I promise."

Slowly, she turned around to look at him. She was an actress and a hell of a good one at that. She could pull this off, one tiny little lie.

"Finn," she started, looking straight at him. "I…"

_I love Richard._ She had formed the words in her mind. Why did they refuse to leave her throat? She felt like she was choking on them. Finally, she gave up, closing her eyes and turning her head to the side before walking past him.

"Can you just go please?" she whispered sadly as she left the confines of the bathroom.

Finn let her go, knowing that he would be unable to stop her anyway. He shook his head as he left the bathroom as well, heading toward the bedroom door. He would be a fool to stay, more so than he already was. He had put his heart out there tonight and for what? Further humiliation after his death?

He tried to block out the conversation that was going on behind him, but as he was halfway through the door, he stopped, something Quinn had said having caught his attention.

"Actually, do you think maybe you could take the guest bedroom tonight? I really want to be alone," she said, resting a hand lightly on his arm. "Today has been a little exhausting and…"

"You don't have to explain yourself, baby," Richard interrupted her, masking the look of confusion from his face with expertise. "I can sleep in the guest bedroom tonight. Holler if you need me though, okay?"

She nodded, leaning in to give him a soft kiss on the lips. They said 'good night' to one another before he left the room, walking right through Finn who had remained frozen in place.

Finn continued to watch her from where he stood until finally, she looked right at him and confessed, "I do love Richard and I have no plans to break up with him, but for the record, just so you know, I'll never love him like I do you."

Her eyes lingered on his for a moment longer before she slipped into bed, snuggling up to her pillow and closing her eyes. Finn walked over to her, wanting to say something, but he knew Quinn had reached her 'let's share feelings' quota for the day. They would talk again tomorrow. He laid down on the empty space beside her, where Richard should have been tonight and he suddenly realized with utmost clarity that Richard would be the one there _every _night once he was gone. He grimaced at the thought, but as he watched her sleep, a small smile formed on his face. Yeah, Richard would have her, but at least he now knew that he would always have her heart.


	6. Don't Let It All Unravel

**A/N:** Thank you for your continued patience with me and for your wonderful reviews. I promise to update 'Fuinnecting The Dots' as well soon.

**Don't Let It All Unravel**

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><p>Santana continued to flip through channels as she sat on the couch waiting for Puck to arrive. He was already fifteen minutes late. <em>Where the hell was he?<em> She picked up the phone, ready to rip him a new one, when an incoming call sounded.

"Puckerman," she hissed into the phone. "There better be a _really _good reason why my coffee's still not here."

"Ms. Lopez," the caller corrected her, although the Latina was unperturbed by her mistake. "This is Mr. Andrews calling. I have news regarding the whereabouts of Ms. Pearce."

Santana sat up a little straighter at the mention of her name. She turned off the TV, wanting to give Mr. Andrews, the PI she had hired, her full, undivided attention. The last time she had seen Brittany, the last time _anyone _had seen Brittany, was at their high school graduation. The blonde had packed her bags that night and was gone by morning, heartbroken that her girlfriend had been unwilling to go public with their relationship.

"_You promised, Santana!" Brittany shouted once the Latina had dragged her into an empty hallway. "You promised we would go public with our relationship at graduation!"_

_She flinched at the sharp tone of her voice, taking a step toward the blonde and placing a hand on her shoulder in an effort to placate her._

"_Brittany, I love you," she said, staring into her eyes, wanting her to know that she meant every word. "I really do, but I'm just not ready yet. Sometime this summer though. I promise."_

_The blonde shrugged off her hand and her words, turning around and crossing her arms over her chest in anger. At the end of the week. One more day, B. After midterms. After Nationals. I promise. Tomorrow. After the game. After graduation. Brittany was sick of waiting._

"_No, Santana," Brittany stressed, refusing to let her take charge again. "You keep stringing me along and I am absolutely sick and tired of it. Either we go public with our relationship now or there is no relationship."_

_Santana was taken aback by her response. Normally, after a little coaxing, Brittany would agree to keeping their relationship a secret for however much longer. What had changed? She continued to stand there in shock and the blonde took her unresponsiveness as her answer. Brittany started to walk away from her, willing herself not to cry. She loved Santana, but she deserved better._

_When the Latina realized what was happening, she panicked, calling after her, "Wait, Brittany!"_

_There was a pause and Brittany turned around to give her another chance, to give her a chance to change her answer._

"_Brittany, I…" she started, but was unable to finish her thoughts. "Just please."_

"_Goodbye Santana," she whispered before swiveling on her heels and making a run for the exit._

_Brittany didn't turn back this time when Santana called after her._

Not only did Santana lose the girl she loved that day, but she also lost her best friend. Not a day went by that she didn't regret her decision all those years ago. She spent the last two years hiring countless numbers of PIs to look for her, but none of them ever turned up with anything substantial as to her current location…_until now_.

"Did I lose you, Ms. Lopez?" Mr. Andrews spoke up, cutting into her thoughts.

"No," Santana responded, shaking her head. "You were saying?"

"She's currently working at a hospital in Barcelona as a nurse," he enlightened her, the gasp on the other of the line not surprising him in the slightest.

"I'm sorry," she stuttered in return, gripping the phone a little tighter in her hand. "She's working as a _nurse _in _Barcelona_?"

"Yes," he answered without missing a beat. "But only for a few more days. She's being transferred to a hospital in Mexico."

_Mexico, good old Mexico._

"Wait, wait," Santana insisted, getting up from the couch and starting to pace around the living room. "How do I know you're not just pulling my leg here?"

"I thought you might doubt me," Mr. Andrews said, well aware that his client was suspicious by nature. "Please check your email."

Santana practically ran for her open laptop, quickly accessing her email account. She clicked the one new message from Mr. Andrews open, holding her breath in anticipation as she opened the photo he had attached.

"_You found her,_" Santana breathed, her eyes starting to water as she stared at the photo on the screen.

She still looked very much the same, as beautiful as ever. She wiped away the tear that had fallen down her cheek. _Oh the irony._ She had yet to shed a genuine tear for her dead fiancé, yet here she was crying because she had found Brittany.

"How can I reach her? Do you have her number? An address?" she questioned eagerly, wanting to track her down herself as soon as possible.

"Yes, yes," the PI replied, sending her the information she wanted in a second email. "Ask for a Ms. Karin Wallach."

"_Karin Wallach?_ What the hell are you playing at here, Andrews?" she hissed, tearing her eyes away from the computer screen as she swiveled around in her computer chair.

"There's a reason no one's been able to track Ms. Pearce down," he answered her calmly, having (again) expected such a reaction from her. "She changed her identity."

"How did _you _track her down then?" Santana challenged him, unable to believe that Brittany had gone to such extreme measures to leave her past behind.

"I told you, Ms. Lopez," Mr. Andrews answered, a tired sigh heard from his lips. "I'm the best in the business. Good luck and I expect I'll get my payment soon?"

"Of course," she assured him, her mind still on Brittany.

_She would always be Brittany to her._

"One million dollars will be wired to your account as promised, Mr. Andrews."

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><p>Quinn gave Richard, who was seated on the opposite side of the room, a small wave as she sat down to get her hair and makeup done. When she woke up next to Finn this morning, neither of them had said anything about what had happened last night. <em>There was no point.<em> It was nice to know that they loved each other, but that knowledge had come a little too late. They both knew that a relationship between them was impossible now.

After breakfast, she and Richard had gone off to work together and while Quinn had told Finn that he was welcome to come with, he chose to pay a visit to his lawyer instead, wanting to make sure that his will would be carried out as he had intended. The blonde knew that he was merely avoiding having to see her and Richard as a couple unless absolutely necessary, not that Quinn was planning to be even _close _to intimate with her boyfriend while Finn was present.

"Looking good, Quinn," a voice spoke up from behind her and she smiled instantly upon hearing the voice.

She whirled around in her chair, her stylists undisturbed by the sudden movement.

"Amy, what a surprise," she answered, waving off her stylists. "How did you get in here?"

Whenever Amy visited her on set, she usually called first and then Quinn would go out to meet her.

"My badge gets me pretty much anywhere," Amy reminded her with a nonchalant shrug. "You know I never abuse my powers unless absolutely necessary. Sam said you sounded tense over the phone. Do you have time to talk or should I catch you later?"

"No, we can talk now," Quinn assured her, her assistant reminding her from afar that she was expected on set in fifteen minutes.

Amy observed her surroundings as Quinn mouthed something or another to her assistant. She had no idea how her best friend dealt with all the craziness of showbiz.

"Okay, so what was so important?" she wondered once she had Quinn's attention again, leaning casually against her vanity table.

The blonde hesitated to give her best friend the details in such a public place. She hopped off her chair and grabbed her hand, leading her to the nearby prop room. She knew they would get a few moments of privacy there. Once they were inside, she closed the door, but only partially so as to ensure a large enough gap for her to be alert of any unwanted visitors coming their way.

Once she was sure the place was secure, she told her, glancing back and forth between Amy and the door every so often, "I can communicate with Finn. I mean, I can see his ghost."

Amy took a moment to absorb the newfound information. _Poor Quinn._ She knew the blonde had never stopped loving him and to have to be the one to help cross him over? That was terrible. She put herself in her shoes for a split second, picturing herself having to help _Sam _crossover to the other side. She shivered at the torturous thought.

"I am so sorry, Quinn," Amy murmured, pulling her friend into a tight hug. "Look on the bright side though. He can speed up our investigation by telling us who killed him and then we can track down the necessary evidence to bring the bastard down."

Amy tried to feel for his presence in the room, but came up empty handed. Well, of course. _Duh. _Why would Quinn talk about him _in front _of him?

"Amy," Quinn explained to her, expressing her biggest concern. "He remembers nothing past boarding that plane to Mexico."

"Let me guess," Amy suggested, knowing _exactly _what her concern was. "He knows he was murdered though."

Unlike Quinn, Amy rarely had ghostly encounters. She had had some on occasion, but she only _spoke _with the spirits. She never had that ability that Quinn had to help them crossover. Even _she _knew though that the dead tended to remember the events leading up to their deaths _before _acknowledging their death. She had only ever encountered one spirit who had experienced the process in reverse. He had been a murder victim as well.

"From what I know, Quinn, once we bring the killer to justice, Finn will be able to move on with the rest of them. He needs to regain his memory of what happened and pinpoint the killer himself though of course."

Quinn nodded in understanding, having deduced the same. Her face crumpled at the reminder that Finn would have to crossover at some point, that she would lose him again. She had spent her whole life _losing _him, time and time again.

"What did he say to you last night by the way?" Amy questioned, her spirit guides having informed her that something important had occurred.

The blonde rolled her eyes. Like she could _ever _keep anything from her psychic best friend. She reiterated what had happened, making sure to include details because she knew Amy would ask for them anyway.

"Damn, that pretty much blows," Amy commented when Quinn had finished, pulling the blonde into another hug. "I am _so _sorry, Quinn."

She laughed at her choice of words, wiping a fallen tear from her cheek.

"Yeah, pretty much," she echoed, stepping out of her embrace. "Thanks."

Amy was about to drop the heartbreaking topic and bring up the topic of Rachel instead when Quinn's assistant came barging into the prop room.

"Quinn, set, _now_," the red-head practically pleaded with her, to which the blonde glanced at her apologetically before scurrying out of the room.

Amy waved her off before starting to head out herself. It was probably better that she tell Quinn about Rachel later anyway.

* * *

><p>Rachel continued to stare at her reflection. She looked exhausted and she was. The purplish mark on her arm caught her attention and upon instinct, she quickly reached for her makeup bag to cover the blemish. Had anyone at the funeral seen the bruise? Of course not, she assured herself, shaking her head slightly at her own silliness. No one had even asked. <em>No one ever asked.<em> Then again, those who did always received the same answer from her. _It was an accident._ Even those who were skeptical at first would end up believing her because she was an excellent actress.

The brunette had come to learn that excellent was not good enough around here, however. She had always dreamt of being on that Broadway stage and even though opportunities were plenty, none of them called out to her. There was always someone who was more suitable for the role. She was too tall, too short, too fat, too skinny, too pretty, too ugly, too _everything_. Then Josh came along, a struggling actor himself, and he was nice to her, made her feel like she was _worth _something. He always encouraged her to try again after every failed audition, but that was early on in their relationship.

As time passed, Josh developed a small drinking problem, treating her like a princess when he was sober and treating her like dirt when he was drunk. The first time he had hit her, she had packed her bags and left, but he had come after her, apologizing to her profusely for what he had done. She took him back after a month because the truth was that she still loved him and after all, he promised he would get some help for his problem. Much to her delight, he did get help and their relationship was back on track and _stayed _on track for the next six months.

Then, his career started to take a bit of a dive, while hers was starting to look up. While she was working hard on an off-Broadway production of _Hairspray_, he turned to alcohol again. The second time he hit her was the morning of opening night. When she applied some makeup to cover up the bruise on her cheek that night, she had no idea that the motion would become routine. She left him again, realizing that she deserved better. He tried to reach her to apologize, but she was smarter this time. She blocked his number, his emails, _everything_.

Three months later, she was sitting in the auditorium waiting for her turn to audition. She wanted this role so bad. To play Sally Bowles in a Broadway production of _Cabaret_, to even _be _on the Broadway stage would be a dream come true for her. She was thrilled when she got the role, but not so thrilled when she realized who had gotten the male lead. By the time opening night came around, however, Josh and her had reunited again. She was sure he had changed for real this time. His dedication to his role had been really impressive and what was love without a few obstacles?

She looked at her reflection again, reaching up to touch the dark circles under her eyes. (Those were because she hadn't been sleeping well lately, not because Josh had hit her.) She sighed as she observed the tiny black dress she was wearing, her thoughts drifting off of herself for a moment to poor Finn. She couldn't believe that he was dead, that he had been _murdered_. No one deserved to die such a traumatic death. Rachel sincerely hoped that the police would be able to bring down the miserable bastard who had done such a terrible thing.

A knock on the door then caused her to jump.

"Princess? What are you doing in there?" Josh sounded from the other side of the barrier. "Princess?"

She used to smile whenever he called her that. Hearing the term of endearment roll off his tongue now only made her sick, but she was two months pregnant and the last thing she wanted was for the baby to grow up without a father.

"Just freshening up!" she told him, faking the cheerfulness in her voice. "Be out in a sec!"

She was sure that once she told him the news, he would change for good, for the sake of their baby.

"Sure," he simply answered, shrugging nonchalantly as he made himself comfortable on the couch.

He took a moment to glance around the hotel room that the Hummel-Hudsons had set them up with. It was nice, like _way _out of his budget nice. He heard the click of the door and when he turned his head to look at her, he noticed right away that she had covered up the bruise on her arm. He felt bad about pushing her last night, but he had been drunk and she should have been smart enough to stay out of his way.

He got up from the sofa and walked over to her. He felt her tense when he pulled her into his arms, relaxing once again when he spoke.

"I'm sorry about last night, Princess," he apologized as he had a thousand times. "I shouldn't have lost my temper with you, but that wasn't _me_, you know?"

She nodded against him, holding him close. Ironically, Rachel always felt safe in his arms when he held her like this.

"I love you," he finished, placing a kiss on top of her head and like always, she believed him because there was such sincerity in his eyes, she knew he was telling the truth.

He was a good person. It was only the alcohol that had poisoned him, that had turned him into a bad person.

"I love you too," she murmured, lifting her head from his shoulder to look at him. "Thanks for coming to the funeral with me by the way."

"Of course," Josh echoed, placing a kiss on her forehead. "I know going alone would have been hard for you."

She nodded her head, taking his hand and leading him over to the couch. She really wanted to tell him she was pregnant, but was afraid of how he would react. She had to tell him though because he would find out for himself soon enough when she _really _started to show.

"Josh, I need to tell you something," she started hesitantly, looking down at her hands.

He tilted her chin up with his finger, forcing her to look at him.

"What's wrong, Princess?" he questioned and the concern in his voice encouraged her to continue.

"I'm…pregnant," she stuttered, holding her breath as she waited in anticipation for his reaction.

His eyes widened and he only stared at her for awhile before he finally spluttered, "_You are?_ How far along?"

"Two months," she murmured, not sure whether this was good news or bad news to him quite yet.

He rested a hand on her stomach, pulling her closer to him with his other hand.

"Are you upset?" Rachel whispered, tensing as she prepared for the blow that might come.

"_What?_" he stressed, still elated over the news. "_Are you kidding me? I'm thrilled!_"

He held her close, burying his face in her neck.

"I'm going to be the best father I can be to our baby, Rachel," Josh declared and the brunette smiled at his words. "I promise."

Rachel mentally chided herself as Josh showered her with kisses. She had been worried about absolutely nothing. _Of course _he would be thrilled to be a father. He was going to change for the sake of their baby. Everything was going to work out. Everything was going to be _perfect_.

His cell phone rang then, interrupting the "perfect" moment. He apologized to her and Rachel nodded her head in understanding. Before he took the call, the brunette managed to catch a glimpse of the caller ID. Huh? _Mr. Chamberlain?_ Why would Josh of all people be in contact with Finn's boss?


	7. The Eye Of The Storm

**A/N:** I hope you have as much fun reading this chapter as I did writing it.

**The Eye Of The Storm**

* * *

><p>Puck was already dialing her number when he pulled the car up to the curb. She answered after the first ring, shouting at him that she was on her way down before he could even get a word in. He shouted something back at her, ending the call and rolling his eyes. <em>Fucking Santana.<em> He had no idea _why _he had even agreed to drive her to the airport. She had a limo and her own private plane for God's sake, but she had said 'please' and saying that word was a big fucking deal for that girl, so _whatever_.

He stared at the entrance of the Cinderella (only Finn would name a hotel after a Disney princess), keeping an eye out for the Latina. _What the hell was taking her so long?_ Finally, he spotted her walking through the double doors toward him, her suitcase trailing behind her. She had a scarf wrapped around her head and was wearing oversized sunglasses that covered almost half her face. He stifled a laugh as she tossed her suitcase into the backseat before getting in next to him up front.

"Looking good, Santana," he teased her, looking her up and down. "You running from the law or something?"

"Shut up, Puckerman," she hissed, looking left and right to make sure that no one else had recognized her. "No one but you and my assistant can know that I'm leaving the country."

His laughter ceased upon hearing her words and the expression on his face became one of concern.

"Why not?" he questioned curiously, making no move to start the vehicle.

A million possibilities ran through his mind then, but one stood out in particular. He dared not make the accusation though. (It was one hell of an accusation.) When she narrowed her eyes at him (he could tell even behind the shades), he knew she had read his mind.

"_No_, I did not kill my own fiancé!" she shouted, unable to believe that the thought had even crossed his mind. "I cared about, Finn. Besides, what would my motive have been?"

Puck shrugged, the car keys still clasped tightly in his hand.

"Money?" he suggested, the look on his face a serious one. "Come on, Santana. I know you cared about Finn, but you were with him for his money."

"His money would have been mine had I married him," she reminded him, tearing her sunglasses from her face.

She was starting to lose patience with him now. She had to be at the airport in about an hour and here he was wasting her time with unimportant nonsense. Puck held her gaze for a moment, pressing his lips together in consideration. He supposed she _did _have a good point.

"Alright, fine," he agreed, starting the car now. "Want to tell me what's going on then?"

"My PI found Brittany," Santana explained, slipping her sunglasses back on and keeping an eye out for the paparazzi, who had been following her around like vultures since the funeral. "I'm going to Mexico to find her."

There was a moment of shocked silence.

"_He found her? In Mexico?_" Puck repeated, unable to process the news. "What the _hell _has she been doing in _Mexico_?"

(He ignored the fact that Finn had been killed there.)

"No, she's _heading _to Mexico, from Barcelona," she corrected him, glancing at her watch every so often to check the time. "She's done quite a bit of traveling since high school. She's a nurse, you know."

Puck turned his head to the side to look at her incredulously, taking his eyes off the road for a moment. He wondered how many more surprises were in store for him today.

"Brittany? _A nurse? _Are you fucking serious?" he clarified, unable to believe that the blonde had the smarts for the job.

This was the girl who had thought that the capital of Ohio was 'O' in high school! He was taken aback when Santana hit him, the action having caught him off guard.

"Yes, I'm fucking serious," she said, rolling her eyes at him. "Brittany's smart. She just never really applied herself in high school. That's all."

"Yeah, sure," Puck echoed, shrugging his shoulders and letting the topic slide. "Whatever. So, you're going to track her down in Mexico and then what? Why did she leave so abruptly anyway?"

"No clue," Santana lied, _not _about to have an in depth discussion about this with Puck.

Puck could tell she was bullshitting him, but he was in no mood to call her out. He had been up all night debating whether or not he should give Rachel a call, see how she was doing. _Fucking Amy. _Getting him all worried about the petite brunette. She was probably _fine_.

"At least tell me why you're being so secretive about leaving the country," he requested, running a hand tiredly through his mohawk. "You owe me that much."

"I'm a prime suspect in Finn's murder, Puckerman," she enlightened him, leaning back into her seat and crossing her arms over her chest. "Leaving the country? _Not _such a good idea."

"Wait, how do you know you're a prime suspect?" he questioned as he pulled up to the curb, wondering why the police had yet to talk to him.

He _was _the best friend, right?

"Also, I think people are going to notice you're gone, Santana, unless you hired a doppelganger or something," Puck added, giving her a pointed look.

"_What are you trying to say, Detective Evans?" Santana challenged him, narrowing her eyes. "I was in the country the night Finn was supposedly killed."_

"_I know," Sam answered, hating that he had to question her in the first place._

_Santana still kind of intimidated him, but he was here on official police business. He needed to remember that he was the one in charge here._

"_I am merely pointing out that you are a woman of resources," he finished, getting up to leave. "Thank you for your time and stay in the country, Miss Lopez. You're a prime suspect in the case."_

_With that, he left, leaving Santana fuming. What was he insinuating exactly? That she had hired someone to do the deed? That she might have snuck onto a flight to Mexico, killed her fiancé there, and then come back in time for lunch the next day?_

_That presumptuous son of a bitch. _

"Sam - _I mean, Detective Evans _- came by to question me the other day," Santana told him as she got out of the car discreetly. "He told me so and advised me not to leave the country anytime soon. As for the whole hiring a doppelganger thing, _bingo_!"

"Hold up," Puck sounded, getting out of the car and helping her with her suitcase. "Sam's the one solving Finn's murder?"

"Believe me when I say I was just as surprised as you are," she said, taking the suitcase from his hands, a grim expression on his face. "Look, I know I should probably stay here, but I…I've got to find her."

She looked down at her feet for a moment before locking eyes with him again.

"I can't lose her again," she whispered and any intention that Puck had had to convince her to stay vanished then.

Putting himself in her shoes for a moment (well, _not literally _because the chick was wearing like six inch heels), he would probably be doing the same, except for the whole doppelganger thing because no one, _no one _could fill in for the Puckasaurus, _seriously_.

"Cover for me?" she pleaded with him, mustering a smile.

(The smile was a genuine one.)

"Yeah," he promised her, waving her off. "You have my word. Bring her back, Santana."

Puck watched her leave, getting back into his car. Santana had _clearly _been given another chance with Brittany. Would he get another chance with Rachel? A sigh left his lips as he drove off into the distance. Neither he nor Santana had noticed that someone had been trailing them all this time.

* * *

><p>Sam stepped out of the elevator, heading immediately for the meeting room. He swung open the double doors, turning back to call out to his team.<p>

"Get in here," he demanded, frustrated by how little progress they were making. "_Now_, all of you."

Everyone immediately scrambled out of their seats, quickly grabbing whatever they thought they would need for the meeting. Sam was a super nice guy, but when he meant business, he _meant _business. He stood with his back toward them in front of the meeting room for awhile, silent. No one dared to breathe, let alone _say _anything.

"People, we have been on this case for over a week now and have gotten absolutely _nowhere_," Sam informed them (not that anyone was out of the loop), turning around and smacking his hands down on the table.

No one flinched.

"We have a solid list of suspects we're looking into," Amy spoke up, being one of the only ones who was _ever _brave enough to face Sam when he was in one of his moods.

"A list of suspects is _not _going to cut it," he stressed, trying to keep his cool. "I need someone behind bars. My job, _our _jobs are on the line here. My supervisor's getting a lot of pressure from the public to close this case, which means _I'm _getting calls at freaking five a.m. every night wondering how close we are to blowing this shit wide open. Does everyone understand me?"

"Loud and clear," everyone answered in unison, attempting to placate their team leader.

"Good," Sam echoed, calming down a bit and finally taking a seat at the head of the table. "Update me, go."

One by one, they filled him in on their progress, each one anticipating further instructions.

"We dropped by the office and questioned some his colleagues. Mr. Hudson was well liked by most."

"By most? Who were the exceptions?"

"He had a bit of a rivalry with one of the Operations managers, but his alibi checks out."

"Airtight?"

"Yes, sir."

"There was also a rumor about an office affair he had with a Ms. Jennings. Ms. Jennings was Mr. Chamberlain's secretary for awhile. Mr. Hudson under Mr. Chamberlain's orders fired her from the company about a year ago."

Sam didn't like to think that Finn had done something so cliché, but he had been in law enforcement long enough to know that a scorned woman was a dangerous one. Further investigation was _definitely _required here.

"We're working on tracking her down, sir."

"Good and did you question Mr. Chamberlain?"

_Silence._

"We didn't think…"

One hard look from Sam and the two of them clamped their mouths shut, scurrying out of the room to get on with their tasks. He turned to the rest of the team, eyeing them expectantly.

"Amy narrowed down the location where Mr. Hudson was actually killed to about ten sweat shops in Mexico."

So, Finn was killed and later burned in two different locations. _Odd._

"Who do those sweat shops belong to?"

_Silence._

"I was about to look into that, sir."

Sam sighed. _Amateurs._

"Book yourself a flight to Mexico. Take whoever you need with you. I want a _firm _location of the victim's death by the end of the week. That means evidence people, _hard _evidence."

Once everyone had left, leaving only him and Amy in the room, his expression softened.

"Sorry," he apologized for being a little short with her earlier. "I'm _beyond _stressed right now."

"I get it," she assured him, not even batting an eyelash. "So, where were you this morning?"

"Well, I was going to go and question Santana again," Sam answered, still hoping that his suspicion was wrong. "When I arrived at the Cinderella though, I spotted her getting into Puck's car. My instincts told me that I should follow them, so I did, all the way to the airport."

Amy sat up a little straighter at his words.

"Wait," she commented, starting to catch on to his drift. "She was leaving the country when you specifically asked her not to?"

Last night, when Amy had asked her spirit guides for help on the case, she had found herself wandering around inside a sweat shop before three gunshots had brought her to her knees. She had (as was to be expected) awaken from her vision, _shaken_. Upon compiling a list of sweat shops in Mexico, she had been able to narrow them down to ten likely candidates. She had asked her spirit guides for help again after that, hoping to pinpoint the exact location where Finn had been killed, but they had shown her an unfamiliar symbol with the name _Santana _scrawled across the top. At the time, both her and Sam had dismissed the clue and assumed that her radar was off because what tie could Santana _possibly _have to a bunch of sweat shops in Mexico? But now…

"Do you know where she's headed?" Amy asked him and Sam shook his head in response, not having had the time to check.

"Let's check that now," he suggested, leading the way out of the meeting room toward her desk.

Once Amy had found the information they wanted, she turned to look at him, a grim expression on her face. Neither or them had wanted Mexico to be the destination.

"Mexico," she murmured, double checking the destination. "What are we going to do?"

Sam stroked his chin in thought, a frustrated sigh leaving his lips.

"We keep this quiet for now," he instructed her, looking around the office to make sure that no one had overheard him. "I'll follow this lead myself."

He didn't want to accuse Santana of something so horrible, but if she _had _murdered Finn, Sam was going to make sure his old classmate ended up behind bars.

* * *

><p>Quinn stepped out of the shower, a content smile on her face. After a long day of filming, all she had wanted was a steaming hot shower. She wrapped the fluffy, white towel around her body, leaning over the sink to wipe away the fog on the mirror with her hand. When she turned around, she let out a shriek, hugging the towel closer to her skin.<p>

"Finn, we agreed to be friends," she reminded him as he burst into laughter at her reaction. "Friends do not sneak up on their friends in the goddamn bathroom!"

"Okay, okay," he echoed, leaning casually against the bathroom wall, his arms crossed over his chest. "I was thinking we could go to a movie tonight."

Quinn smiled at his suggestion, but shook her head.

"I would love to, but I have to be on set at five in the morning," she told him, looking at him apologetically. "Tomorrow night though. I promise."

Finn pouted, hoping that that would soften her resolve. Over the last week or so, Quinn and him had been spending a lot of time together. He had always missed her, but he had never realized _how much _until recently. Sometimes there were moments where they felt something between them, but each time, one or both of them would brush off the familiar feeling, stepping cautiously back into the friends zone. Outside of that zone lay dangerous territory, a fact they were both _well _aware of.

"Please?" he begged of her, clasping his hands together. "I'm bored out of my mind here."

Quinn rolled her eyes, walking past him into the bedroom.

"Finn, we have been hanging out all week," she told him, slipping into a pair of panties and an oversized t-shirt. "We have to start helping Amy with the case. Have you remembered _anything _since our last phone conversation with her?"

He sighed, taking a seat on the bed, his fingers to his temples.

"I'm really sorry, Quinn," he apologized, disappointed in himself. "I'm trying, really I am."

She went to sit next to him, not wanting him to feel bad. She knew this was probably hard for him.

"Here," she sounded, reaching into the side table drawer and taking out the picture again. "Are you sure you don't remember _anything _about her?"

Quinn was baffled that he had no memory of Ms. Jennings, especially since he had met her long _before _his departure to Mexico. Plus, how could you not remember the woman you had an affair with? When the blonde had first heard the news from Amy, her heart had dropped. For one, she had never thought of Finn as the cheating type and for another, the thought of him with any other woman _killed _her.

"I'll try again," he promised her, reading her mind.

He stared down at her picture, muttering her name a few times under his breath, hoping to jog his memory.

"Okay," Quinn announced, leaving the photo next to him on the bed and giving him an encouraging smile. "I'm just going to get a cup of water. Be right back."

She strolled into the kitchen, grabbing a cup out of the cupboard. Her mind wandered as she began to fill the cup with water, ending up pouring some onto the floor.

"Shit," she swore, backing up from the counter to get a mop.

As she did, she lost her footing, grimacing as her behind landed on the ground. Her cup shattered to pieces beside her, having taken the object down with her in her poor attempt to regain her balance. The commotion had Finn running to the kitchen to make sure she was okay. As he rushed down the hall, his surroundings began to fade and when he stopped, he found himself in an unfamiliar place. This was _not _Quinn's kitchen and Quinn was nowhere to be found. Instead, there was a man leaning over a _very _pregnant woman. His back was toward him, thus concealing her identity. Next to her were pieces of shattered glass. Was _that _the crash he had heard earlier? _No, impossible._ He stood still, silent, his head spinning with confusion. _How did he get here? Where was he?_

And then the man spoke and his voice was _more _than familiar. It was _him_. _He _was the one leaning over the pregnant woman.

"Dana," he heard himself say, slight panic in his voice. "I need you to let go of my hand for a moment, okay? I need to call an ambulance."

Dana (_Jennings_, Finn realized) shook her head at him, tears streaming down her face.

"No," she stopped him, gripping onto his hand even tighter still. "There's no time. He's coming. _Now._"

And then Finn found himself in the right place again, kneeling down next to Quinn, holding tightly onto her hand.

"Finn, are you okay?" the blonde questioned in concern, having heard the name Dana on his lips. "Who's coming? Who's _he_?"

Finn swallowed hard, hesitating in his answer. Had he _really _had an affair with his boss' secretary and gotten her pregnant while he was dating Santana, but in love with Quinn? Damn, he was a jackass.

"The baby," he murmured finally and the face Quinn made in response absolutely crushed him. "Joseph _Christopher _Jennings."


	8. Not Another Mistake

**A/N:** A new chapter! Hooray! Reviews would be lovely, even just to let me know that you're still reading this story!

**Not Another Mistake**

* * *

><p>Quinn sighed as the director yelled 'cut!' for the umpteenth time. Ryan was one of the most patient people in the business, but today, she was undoubtedly putting that to the test.<p>

"Lucy baby," he said, being one of the few people who dared to call her by her real name. "I need this scene to be flawless." He paused and repeated himself, "_Flawless._ Do you understand me?"

She nodded, too distracted to even snipe at him for calling her Lucy like she normally would.

"Babe," Richard hissed from beside her, looking at her like she had gone off the deep end. "What the hell's going on? You _never _forget your lines. This is our eighteenth take and _yes_, I've been counting."

"Nothing," she assured him, even though the fact that Finn had a love child somewhere out there with his boss' ex-secretary was still gnawing at her mind. "Besides, I have to put up with _you _forgetting your lines on a daily basis, _babe_, so I don't know what you're complaining about."

He shut up after that. Richard was always good at knowing when to stop, a quality that Quinn appreciated in people, especially her boyfriends.

"Okay, from the top people," the director demanded, pausing for a few seconds for dramatic effect before he shouted, "And action!"

"Is my wife going to be okay?" Richard (as Carl Harris) blubbered, looking helplessly at the doctor.

He started to tear up at once, gripping tightly onto his wife's slender hand. Like Quinn, Richard could cry on command. It was a skill that came in handy often, especially in their line of business.

"Calm down, Mr. Harris," the doctor soothed, an amused smile on his lips. "Both mother and child are going to be fine."

A confused expression came to rest on his face as he gripped Quinn's hand a little tighter.

"Child?" he questioned, looking back and forth between his wife and the doctor. "What _child_?"

"Perhaps I've made a mistake," the doctor corrected himself quickly when he noticed the warning glance that came from Mrs. Harris.

"What child, Maria?" Richard asked, a practiced tension in his voice.

_Silence._

Richard let out a frustrated groan when he realized that Quinn had missed her cue again. He acknowledged that Finn Hudson's death had really rocked her world, but she had been acting like a _completely _different person ever since that funeral. He had tried being the supportive boyfriend, but he would be the first to admit that he was starting to get a little frustrated with her. She was always on that computer of hers researching things, making calls to Amy, etc. Plus, not only had she been denying him _sex _as of late, but now she was forgetting her _lines_? _Who was this girl?_ He had no freaking clue. All he knew was that he wanted the old Quinn Fabray back. He wanted _his _Quinn back.

"Cut!" the director yelled out in similar frustration, massaging his newly aching temples. "Everyone take twenty." He marched up to Quinn and warned her, "Lucy, whatever _demon's_ possessed you this morning, get rid of it."

She nodded numbly at his command, not even realizing that she had missed her line again until she heard Richard swear heavily under his breath. Quinn sighed in disappointment at herself as she headed off to her dressing room, ignoring her boyfriend as he called after her. _What was wrong with her?_ She was a professional. _Everyone _in the entertainment industry knew that. Quinn wished she'd never found out about Joseph Christopher Jennings. The knowledge of his existence was making her ask so many questions, ones she wouldn't be asking otherwise. Did she even _know _who Finn was anymore? Maybe she was in love with Finn Hudson, her first love, the boy she had known in high school. How much did she know about him _now _really? An office affair? A love child? _Finn? _Quinn let out a laugh at the idea, but the sound died on her lips because _yes _- Finn, office affair, _love child_. She was going to have to come to terms with that.

"How many times do I have to apologize, Quinn?" came a familiar (but unwelcome at the moment) voice from behind her.

She kept her eyes forward still, unwilling, _unable _to look at him.

"You don't have to apologize, Finn," she said, her voice betraying no emotions. "I've got no reason to be angry with you, really. What you did with your life is _your _business."

"Quinn, don't be like that," he pleaded with her, appearing in front of her. "I'm just as shocked as you are. I had no idea I had a son. I don't even _remember _having the affair. I swear!"

"Would you have told me if you had known?" she asked him, boring her eyes into his. "Would you have told me about Dana and Joseph eventually _if _you had remembered?"

He looked away from her for a brief moment, keeping silent. He knew he had to be honest with her.

"To be honest, probably not," he answered her finally, meeting her gaze again and her face fell almost immediately, which broke his heart. "I mean, I think I would have been too ashamed to say anything."

"Ashamed?" she echoed, the tone of her voice searching for more of an explanation.

"Yes," he affirmed, a tired sigh leaving his lips because after the bomb had been dropped last night, who could have expected either of them to get a good night's sleep? "I wouldn't have been…I'm _not _ashamed of Joseph _if _he is my son," he elaborated, wringing his hands together nervously. "I'm embarrassed I had the affair. It's so not _me_, you know?"

"What do you mean _if_?" Quinn snapped, unable to hold back her anger any longer. "I think you made it pretty clear he _is _when you broke the news to me yesterday."

She hated going off on him like this because did she really have a right to be angry with him? Okay, so, admittedly, she was mostly angry with herself. If she had fought for him, the two of them would be back in Lima right now, her a successful lawyer, maybe a real estate agent, and him working hard at Burt's garage. He would _never _have fathered a child with Dana Jennings. _Hell!_ Right now, Finn might even be _alive_. Quinn brought a hand to her forehead, her head throbbing with pain. She felt like someone had split her head into two with an axe.

"Quinn," Finn started again, but was interrupted by the sound of a ringing phone.

"Hello?" she quickly answered the call, never more thankful for an interruption. "Hey Amy."

"Is Finn there?" Amy wondered, getting the feeling that he was. "Can you put us on speakerphone?"

Quinn glanced over at Finn uncertainly, but ultimately relented. He had the right to know anything that was related to his case she supposed.

"Sure, hold on," she said, doing exactly as she had been told. She got up to lock her dressing room door before she announced, "All clear, Amy."

"Okay great," Amy echoed, getting straight to the point. "So, Sam and I decided to pay a visit to Dana this morning."

Finn and Quinn shared a look but made no comment, waiting for her to reveal more details.

"She was unwilling to cooperate with us," she continued as both of them had expected. "Slammed the door in our faces the moment Sam showed her his badge."

"She _has _to cooperate with the police!" Quinn protested, the desperation evident in her voice.

Sure, she was devastated to learn that Dana and Joseph existed, but the blonde still wanted to bring Finn's killer to justice. If Dana _had _killed him out of spite, Quinn would make _sure _the woman rotted behind bars.

"Actually, no," her best friend corrected her. "Until we have some solid proof that Dana might be responsible for Finn's death, we can't bring her in for questioning. Sam and I showed up on her doorstep only with the hope that she would choose to give us some answers."

"Great," the blonde muttered under her breath and Amy dreaded to tell her what she and Sam had managed to discover next.

She knew that the blonde still held onto a _very _tiny sliver of hope that Finn might not be Joseph's father, that the affair had never happened, even though she would never admit to being quite so optimistic.

"To be honest, Quinn," she shared her thoughts, making sure to tread carefully. "Neither Sam or I think she killed him. For someone who's been a secretary all her life and who's currently unemployed, she's _very _well off if you know what I mean. If she _did _kill him, she didn't have a very strong motive."

"How much Amy?" Quinn asked between clenched teeth and Finn stood beside her, a confused expression on his face, not having understood what Amy had insinuated.

"Ten million," she stated, deciding that beating around the bush with her friend was not going to get them anywhere.

"Wow, ten million dollars, Finn," Quinn drawled out sarcastically, turning her head to the side to look at him. "I guess getting pregnant with your child was the best decision Dana _ever _made."

Before Finn could say anything, Amy interjected, "Yeah, actually Finn, the reason I asked Quinn to put us on speaker phone is because I wanted to ask whether or not you have any recollection of writing Dana a check for ten million dollars. We have no grounds to ask the bank to release that sort of information presently. If you do, Ms. Jennings wouldn't be very high on our suspects list and we could divert our attention to more…_pertinent _ones."

Quinn suppressed her anger for a moment to play messenger.

"He says no, but give him a second," she suggested, the bitterness in her voice about as subtle as a gun. "He might remember at any moment. All he needs is a trigger."

"Will you _stop _already?" Finn shouted, having finally snapped. "I said I was sorry, okay Quinn? What more do you want me to do? I wish I could rewind time, okay? I wish I could, but I can't."

"Okay," Amy interrupted, having sensed that Quinn had made his spirit _really _upset. "Everyone breathe, relax. Finn, you need to understand why Quinn's so touchy about all this. She's only dreamt of having your babies since like _forever _and now that she knows some other wom-"

"Amy, _shut up_," the blonde seethed, tearing her attention away from the man she was hopelessly in love with to berate her best friend. "Not one more word."

"Just trying to lighten the mood," she explained in her defense, unable to witness her friend blush furiously as Finn laughed from beside her, his earlier anger forgotten.

"Fine, truce?" Quinn suggested once she had composed herself, turning to Finn and stretching out a hand for him to shake.

Her mind momentarily flashed back to last night. For some reason, when Finn had knelt down beside her and gripped tightly onto her hand, his touch had felt so _real_. She wondered whether or not he had noticed the same thing. The anticipation on his face told her that he had. Cautiously, he reached out to grip her hand and much to both of their disappointment, his hand went straight through hers. Had that moment simply been a figment of their imaginations? It had to be, right? Quinn had certainly never had any physical contact with any of the ghosts she encountered.

"Truce," Finn agreed, returning his hand to his side reluctantly. "So, what now?"

Quinn relayed his question to Amy, since she pretty much had the same one.

"Sam would kill me for this since you happen to be emotionally invested," Amy warned her. "But how would you like to help with the investigation? Informally, of course."

"As much as I would _love _to have a little chat with Dana only to confirm that _yes_, Joseph is Finn's son and _yes_, he wrote them a check for ten million dollars for cliché reasons, I think I'll pass," Quinn said, forcing a smile.

Amy knew just how to push her buttons though.

"We're working on Finn's memory here, Q," she reminded her, hoping that this would motivate her to make a visit. "He only saw a short scene in his mind. Even his own assumptions of his life could have been…_misguided_."

"Are you _actually _trying to suggest that maybe Joseph _isn't _Finn's child?" Quinn spluttered in disbelief, even though her eyes lit up at the possibility.

"We'll never know for sure until we hear it from the woman herself," Amy continued to encourage her, although she was sure that she had already reeled her best friend in - hook, line, and sinker.

Quinn turned to look at Finn, looking to him for an opinion.

"Maybe I _am _wrong," he offered, but the tone of his voice suggested that he wished he wasn't.

The blonde was about to call him out on that, but she stopped herself short because minus the affair, why _wouldn't _Finn want Joseph to be his child? He was _dead_. Children were certainly not an option for him anymore, so he was probably happy to know that he had left a son in the world. Suddenly, another thought occurred to her.

"Wait, what about Finn's will?" she questioned. "If Joseph's his son, surely he would have left something for him and Dana in addition to the ten million he already gave them."

Finn shook his head from beside her. He had no recollection of leaving anything for either of them. He remembered leaving a huge part of his fortune to Santana though, but he kept that to himself because he doubted that Quinn needed to hear that.

"Good point," Amy agreed, making a note to get in touch with Finn's lawyer. "So, you'll do it then?"

"Yeah, yeah," Quinn promised her with a wave of her hand. "I'll go and see her after we finish filming for the day. Text me the address. Here's to hoping she's a fan of me."

Amy laughed on the other end of the line and pointed out to her, "Who doesn't? You're one of the hottest celebrities out there right now. Every girl wants to be you and every guy wants to _do _you."

"True," Quinn responded, echoing her laugh. "I'll let you know what I find out. Bye."

She hung up the phone just as her assistant called her back to the set.

"Wait, Q," Finn called out from behind her. "Are we okay and…can I tag along later?"

She turned around and offered him a small smile, "Yes, to both. While I'm filming here, do you mind going to check up on Rachel? Amy's _concerned _about her."

Finn raised an eyebrow at her, wanting to ask for details, but didn't. He was sure Quinn would explain everything to him later.

"I'm on it," he said before fading from her dressing room.

He had yet to pay a visit to Rachel anyway.

* * *

><p>Santana was super nervous as she headed toward the critical care unit of the hospital where she was told Brittany was (well, Karin Wallach). She had spent the night rolling around in her bed back at the hotel, unable to sleep. What was she going to say to her when she saw her? She had been asking herself that question ever since she got off the plane and she still didn't have an answer for herself. Her breath caught in her throat when she turned the corner because Brittany was standing there behind the counter chatting with one of the doctors. She pinched herself for good measure because after looking for her for so long, she had finally found her and that took some <em>really <em>good luck. Santana swore to herself that she would be a better person from now on, which wouldn't be hard she knew because she was _always _the best version of herself whenever she was around Brittany.

She took cautious steps toward the counter and murmured, still in shock over her presence, "Brittany."

Brittany whirled around when she heard her name. Even though she had been Karin Wallach for awhile now, she often found herself responding to her old name still, but that voice…_Oh God. Santana?_ Quickly, she composed herself.

"Are you here to see a patient Miss?" she managed to ask her, keeping the tone of her voice neutral, professional.

How had she found her and more importantly, had she been looking? She called back to check on her parents from time to time. (Her parents had long agreed to keep her secret.) Had they told Santana where she was? No, she corrected herself when she remembered that not even her parents knew where she was. She only called them once in awhile to let them know that she was doing okay. Not great, not wonderful, but _okay _because a life without Santana had been just that - okay.

"A patient?" Santana echoed, knitting her eyebrows together in confusion.

She was unable to believe that Brittany was _actually _denying her. No, actually, she _could _believe that, so she played along.

"Yes," she corrected herself, clearing her throat. "A _patient_. Her name's Brittany Pierce. She's…the only person I've ever loved."

She recognized the 'deer caught in the headlights' look on her face and Santana immediately regretted what she had said, albeit true. The last thing she wanted was to send Brittany running for the hills again. She might not be so lucky in finding her the next time around. Much to her surprise, however, Brittany stayed exactly where she was, her face emotionless.

"Right Brittany Pierce," she said, pretending to look her up in the system. "I'm sorry, but there's no Brittany Pierce in our patient records."

"_Brittany_," Santana protested, extreme anxiety in her voice, but she paused, recollected herself, and clarified instead, "Are you sure?"

Brittany bit her lip at her question. She could see the desperation in her eyes, but after all these years, the Latina had no _right _to do this to her, to open up the wounds she had worked so hard to heal since she had left Lima, Ohio behind. Remembering the past brought a bitter taste to her mouth and she could feel her buried anger bubbling to the surface once more.

"Wait," the blonde said, tapping her index finger against her chin in thought. "I _do _remember a Brittany Pierce actually, but she was a patient here several years ago. I'm sorry to say Miss that Ms. Pierce is no longer with us."

By now, Santana was near tears. She couldn't remember the last time she had _felt_ so much.

"When was the last time you spoke with her?" Brittany questioned, unfazed by her many emotions (unlike she used to be). "I'm very sorry for your loss."

The Latina ignored her pointless question and pried, "What was the cause of her death?"

Brittany's bottom lip trembled as she answered her, letting out a shaky breath.

"A broken heart," she murmured, hoping that Santana would get the message and just leave.

"Brittany, _please_," Santana begged her then, unwilling to play the game anymore, not _wanting_ to play the game anymore. "Can we talk?"

The blonde pursed her lips in consideration, but ultimately, her stubbornness won out.

"My name's Karin," she told her firmly. "Karin Wallach. _Don't_ make me call security."

Santana opened her mouth to say something more, but changed her mind, acknowledging that she had overstayed her welcome. What had she expected? That Brittany would leap into her arms and shout "I missed you too!"? At least she was doing okay for herself, more than okay she would say. That for her should be enough, Santana lectured herself as she left the hospital. It should be enough.

(Yeah, it _should _be, except it _wasn't_.)


	9. More Than Meets The Eye

**A/N:** Enjoy and a special thank you to those of you who take a moment to review. It really does mean a lot to me. Fuinnecting The Dots should be updated sometime this weekend. Also, to the anon who requested a Christmas one-shot, there's one coming your way!

**More Than Meets The Eye**

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><p>Quinn looked down at her phone and checked the address again to make sure she had the right place. Once she confirmed that she did, she started up the front steps, pausing on the top one. Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, she reached forward to ring the doorbell, her hand still shaking slightly as she did so. Next to her, Finn stood silent. When he caught her eye, he gave her a weak smile. He probably had no idea what to say to make the situation less…<em>awkward<em>. In her opinion, nothing could.

"Coming!" came a cheery voice from the other side of the barrier.

Quinn held her breath in anticipation and seconds later, the door swung open. A gorgeous woman greeted her and she _did _mean gorgeous. Dana Jennings had been a _secretary_? What a waste of her good looks!

"May I help you?" Dana wondered and the blonde blushed in embarrassment, realizing that she had been staring.

Judging by the stupid look on his face, Finn seemed to have forgotten how gorgeous the woman was too. A pang of jealousy coursed through her body then, but Quinn shook the pestering feeling away.

"Uh, yes," she answered, smiling politely at her. "Dana Jennings, right?"

Instantly, the expression on her face became one of suspicion. She had every right to be suspicious of course given that the police had tried to question her earlier. Quinn shifted uncomfortably under her scrutinizing gaze.

"Who's asking?"

Quinn stuck out a hand for her to shake in response, wanting to instill confidence in the woman.

"I'm sorry for showing up here unannounced, but I was in the neighborhood. I'm Quinn. Quinn _Fabray_," she introduced herself, frankly a little surprised that Dana hadn't recognized her.

Her features seemed to soften at the new information and Quinn allowed herself to relax as well. Sometimes, who she was got her what she wanted. This was _clearly _one of those times.

"The actress?" Dana clarified, a look of confusion spreading over her face. "I'm sorry, but I don't understand what you're doing here."

_Never mind._ So, the woman didn't seem to care all that much that she was famous. Quinn decided to try another angle.

"I'm a friend of Finn's," she informed her instead, not knowing whether or not mentioning him would help her here. "Finn _Hudson_."

Instantly, her lips curved up into a smile and were her eyes _sparkling_? _Oh dear God_, Quinn thought to herself. Not only had the two of them had an affair, but she had _loved _him. Maybe Finn had loved her too. She was too afraid to look in his direction, afraid that he might confirm her suspicion.

"May I come in?" she asked hopefully instead and Dana nodded after a moment of contemplation, stepping aside to let her in.

The moment Quinn stepped inside, she was shocked to find that the place was an absolute mess. She had assumed that someone with ten million dollars in their pocket would have hired a housekeeper at the very least. She had a housekeeper who came by three times a week to clean up around _her _penthouse.

"I'm sorry," Dana apologized, knowing exactly what she was thinking.

She ran past her to pick up a few stray toys and dumped them into a plastic bin nearby.

"Don't worry about it," Quinn assured her, giving her a small smile before following her into the living room.

Once she was seated on the sofa, her host scurried off into the kitchen, returning five minutes later with a hot cup of tea in her hands. Meanwhile, Finn had wandered off in search of Joseph. Quinn understood. Of course he wanted to see his son.

"Oh, thank you," the blonde murmured, taking the steaming cup from her hands, her friendliness making her feel a little uneasy.

"You're welcome," Dana echoed, taking a sip from her own. "So, what's this about?"

"I was hoping you could tell me the nature of your relationship with Finn," Quinn informed her, getting straight to the point.

She got the feeling that as sweet as the woman was, she wasn't the type to beat around the bush either.

"A very straight-forward request, Ms. Fabray," she responded with a hearty laugh, setting her cup down on one of the many coasters on the table. "I'll tell you as long as you tell _me _what the nature of _your _relationship with him was like."

Her proposal caught Quinn off guard. Then, she figured, _Why the hell not?_

"Well, we've known each other all our lives, we were each other's first loves, and we dated on and off in high school," she shared, ashamed as she revealed the last bit. "I haven't really been in touch with him since then."

"_Oh!_" Dana exclaimed, her eyes widening in realization. "Quinn Fabray. _Lucy_ Quinn Fabray. Finn spoke often of you when he was still alive." Her expression grew grim as she apologized, "I'm sorry. I would have gone to his funeral, but with people from the office there…"

"Of course," Quinn echoed with a nod of her head. "I understand."

How close had Finn been with this woman exactly that he had talked about their past so freely with her? To Quinn, her apology only served to confirm the affair she had a gut feeling they had had and a familiar sense of dread washed over her, shaking her to her very core.

"So, you _were _having an affair with him then, huh?" she confirmed anyway, wanting to hear her admit to the affair out loud.

There was a pregnant pause.

"I beg your pardon?" Dana echoed, pressing her lips together to stifle another laugh. "_God no!_ Finn's like a brother to me. Besides, he was engaged to Ms. Lopez while being in love with you. Three women's a crowd, sweetheart. Getting involved with a married man was risky enough for me. Throwing another woman into the mix? No thanks."

"Married man?" Quinn repeated and then, the wheels inside her head began to turn.

_Of course!_

Her mouth fell wide open and she exclaimed, "Finn's _boss _was the one who got you pregnant. You were having an affair with Mr. Chamberlain!"

"Well, you don't have to make me sound like a tramp," she stated in response. "I loved him, you know. Foolishly, _yes_, but I _did _love him. He promised to leave his wife for me and I believed him. Also, could you please keep your voice down? My son's taking a nap upstairs."

Quinn blushed a deep shade of crimson red. The relief she suddenly felt was absolutely liberating.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, not having meant to offend the woman, especially since she had been so kind to her. "I…"

"Don't sweat it," Dana interrupted her, smiling again. "I understand. I think he'd be happy to know you still cared so much if he were still alive."

There was a sadness in her voice, but the smile remained on her face.

"Besides, when Daniel had Finn fire me from the company, I was called every name in the book by my fellow colleagues, some of whom I thought were my friends. _Believe _me when I say that I've heard it all before," she further explained and Quinn felt a pang of sympathy for the woman.

Rarely was the blame ever placed on the cheating bastard instead of the other woman.

"Why did everyone believe that Finn was the one who had been having the affair with you then?" Quinn inquired, wanting to know the full story now.

"Daniel or _Mr. Chamberlain _as you may know him was smart," Dana answered and Quinn could hear the regret in her voice. "He never initiated our encounters himself. He would always go through Finn. Finn would walk me into the restaurant, the hotel, _whatever_, and then Daniel would come through the backdoor or some sort of side entrance. To the world or those who spotted us anyway, I was having secret meetings with Finn."

"So, why didn't you expose Mr. Chamberlain afterward?" Quinn continued to pester her, her curiosity getting the better of her. "Wait, you threatened to, didn't you? That's where the ten million dollars came from."

Dana raised an eyebrow at her in surprise.

"Apparently you've done your research, Ms. Fabray," she commented, clearly amused. "But no, the ten million came from Finn and I'd be happy to tell you the whole story if you'd give me a chance."

Quinn clamped her mouth shut, allowing Dana to take control of the conversation.

"At first, I really _did _want to expose him," she admitted, folding her hands together on her lap. "I was angry at him for treating me like a queen one second and then discarding me like garbage the next, but I loved him. I didn't want to hurt him in anyway, regardless of the fact that he didn't show me the same courtesy. I wouldn't expect you to understand, but…"

"You're right. I don't," Quinn told her honestly, having tried her best not to interrupt. "I would have gone back to that office and busted his balls in as public a manner as possible."

Dana threw her head back and laughed, having thought about doing the same a long time ago.

"Like I said, I wanted to, but I didn't," she repeated, continuing on with the story. "Finn respected my decision. He just let everyone go on thinking that we were the ones having the affair. As for the ten million dollars, he wanted me and Joseph to be taken care of for life. I honestly wouldn't be here today without him. I'll be forever grateful."

She reached forward to touch Quinn's hand, staring right into her eyes.

"Please keep what I've told you between us, Ms. Fabray," she asked of her. "I only told you because Finn made me believe that you were someone I could trust."

The blonde placed her hand over hers in response. She would be true to her word too.

"Your secret's safe with me," she agreed, not even planning to tell Amy what she had learned now.

She would just have to tell her best friend that Dana was not a suspect. She had no motive whatsoever to want Finn dead. Quinn only hoped that Amy had enough faith in her to simply take her word for it.

"Thank you," Dana murmured just as they heard a loud laugh coming from upstairs.

Alarmed by the sudden sound, Dana excused herself and hurried upstairs to check on her son. Quinn took the liberty of following her, doubting that she would mind. When she got to the room, Joseph was no longer asleep. He was sitting upright in his crib, laughing as Finn played peek-a-boo with him. Quinn let out a small gasp. _Joseph could see him._ When her eyes connected with Finn's, he grinned at her, clearly pleased with that fact. Quinn dreaded that she would have to tell him that Joseph was _not _his son later.

"What are you laughing about, Joseph?" Dana questioned, the tone of her voice teasing.

She chuckled softly as she walked right through Finn to pick her son up.

"You're a silly baby," she murmured against his cheek. "_Yes you are_, yes you are!"

Joseph squealed with delight as he tried to wriggle out of his mother's arms. Quinn watched Finn as he watched them, noticing that his gaze one of longing. She could tell that he wanted so desperately to hold him too. It was time to go before he got too attached.

"Finn - I mean, uh, Dana - thank you so much for speaking to me, but I should be going now," she announced, stealing a glance at Finn and cocking her head in the direction of the door.

He got the message and reluctantly headed downstairs after her.

"It was lovely meeting you, Ms. Fabray," Dana told her once they were at the front door.

She had one arm wrapped around Joseph, her free hand resting on the door handle.

"Just so you know," she finished, thinking that Quinn should know. "Finn _never _stopped loving you."

Quinn gave her a small smile, reaching out to touch Joseph's chubby little hand to say goodbye to him too. He grabbed onto her extended finger in farewell, uncurling his fingers from around hers afterward to also wave goodbye to Finn, who was standing next to her. Thankfully, the tiny motion went unnoticed by his mother.

Once the two of them were back in her car, Quinn turned to him and started, "Finn, I…"

"I know," he murmured, giving her a sad smile. "While you were downstairs talking to Dana, I remembered."

Her mouth fell into an 'o' as she started the ignition. They remained silent the rest of the ride back to her place. It was better that way, she supposed. She had no idea what to say to him anyway.

* * *

><p>The next morning, Quinn dashed off to work before Finn was awake, not by choice of course. She left him a quick note on the refrigerator that they would talk when she got back. After he read her note, he remembered that he still had to go check up on Rachel, since he had been unable to track her down yesterday. He arrived at the hotel seconds later. He was about to ring the doorbell when he remembered he was well, <em>dead<em>. He floated through the front door instead, smiling when he spotted Rachel watching TV on the couch. Looking her up and down, he mused to himself, _She looks fine to me._ Since Quinn would be at the studio for at least a few more hours, Finn decided to hang around here for awhile. Why not? Plus, Rachel was watching _Beauty and the Beast_ and he really liked that movie. Just as he was about to sit down beside her, a familiar voice sounded from behind him.

"Thanks for letting me use the bathroom," Puck said, returning to his seat on the couch.

Rachel reached for the remote upon hearing his voice, pressing the pause button.

"Of course. So, why are you here, Noah?" she questioned, a suspicious look in her eyes. "Because I have a hard time believing you came here to 'check up on me'."

He raised an eyebrow at that, crossing his arms over his chest defensively.

"Why's that so hard to believe?" Puck asked her in return, frankly a little offended that she thought he didn't care enough about her to.

Rachel shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly and answered, "Well, we haven't talked much since graduation. The only people I've sort of kept in touch with are Kurt and Quinn. You showing up here randomly to 'check up on me'? I'm not buying it. Sorry."

"Wait, you kept in touch with Quinn?" he confirmed, her name having caught his attention.

Rachel bit her lower lip, unable to believe that she had let her name slip. One time after Josh had gotten physical with her, she'd broken down on her bedroom floor, crying. In her emotional state, she had called Kurt to finally share her secret with someone, except she had called Quinn by accident instead. Before the blonde could bring her mistake to her attention, she'd told her _everything_. Much to her surprise, Quinn had come to find her immediately to comfort her. Since that night, they had talked on and off, but the third time she'd gotten back together with Josh, the blonde had kept her distance, _permanently_, tired of preaching to her that she deserved better. Rachel didn't blame her, but seeing how much Josh had changed since finding out she was pregnant, the brunette knew she had made the right calls back then.

"Did I say _Quinn_?" she clarified, a nervous laugh escaping from her lips. "I meant…"

"Don't bullshit me, Berry," he interrupted her. "Why have you been in touch with Quinn?" He scoffed and added, "You two could barely stand each other at the funeral. Yeah, I witnessed the tense exchange the two of you had."

"That was…_nothing_," Rachel insisted before a question came to mind. "How did you even catch that?"

"It was too damn depressing in there," he informed her, laying his head back on the couch and closing his eyes. "I snuck out for some fresh air. Hudson wouldn't have minded I'm sure."

"You mean like he wouldn't have mind that you were screwing his fiancée behind his back?" she shot at him, glad that the focus of the conversation had drifted from her to him.

He opened his eyes in alarm at her accusation.

"How the hell did you know? It was Quinn, wasn't it? _She _told you," he concluded through clenched teeth. "She was the _only _other person who knew."

Rachel shook her head at him.

"I only found out at the funeral," she confessed, never having noticed the way the two of them looked at each other before. "When you went up to Santana to offer your condolences, the guilt in both of your eyes was unmistakable. What would _you _two have to feel guilty about except for an affair? I mean, unless you two killed him, which I highly doubt."

"I…" Puck trailed off, knowing that there was no way he could defend himself to her. "Look, what Santana and I did to Finn was wrong. I know that. For what it's worth, I haven't had a _wink _of sleep since the funeral. To be honest, I don't think I'm going to get much sleep for the rest of my life. I can practically _feel _how angry Finn is with me from beyond the grave."

Finn fumed from beside him, his hands clenched into tight fists on either side of his body. _Oh, he had absolutely no fucking idea._ Finn was even more upset with Quinn though. She had known all along and had never thought to tell him.

"Fine," Rachel said simply with a curt nod of her head.

He really _did _seem sorry for betraying his best friend.

"Rachel, I really did come to check up on you though," Puck continued, shifting closer to her. "Someone told m-"

Then, the front door opened and in stepped Josh.

"Who the hell are you?" he spat, setting his purchases onto the floor.

Rachel panicked, not having expected him to be home so soon. Puck stood up, ready to defend them both and Finn merely stared at the intruder, trying to place him. _He looked so familiar._ A split second later, he fell to the floor, clutching his head in pain, everyone around him oblivious (obviously) to what was going on.

"Shit!" he shouted as another sharp pain pierced his skull.

_Finn set his briefcase down beside him before he settled into his seat. Since the corporate jets were all in use and Santana needed their private jet, he had had to settle for first class._

_Feeling friendly, he turned to the person sitting next to him and introduced himself, "Hey, I'm Finn."_

_Then, he paused because his companion was familiar._

_"Oh hey, Josh, right?" he confirmed, giving him a warm smile. "Rachel's boyfriend? We met earlier this year."_

_"The high school reunion, right?" Josh offered, extending a hand for him to shake. "Yeah, I remember you."_

_"So, what are you headed to Mexico for?" Finn questioned, deciding to strike up a conversation. "Business or pleasure?"_

_"Business," Josh answered him, not really in the mood for talking. "I've got a supporting role in this movie that's being shot in Mexico."_

_"Oh cool," Finn commented, facing forward again in his seat. "I've got business to take care of in Mexico as well. I'll be staying at the Fairview Hotel. What about you?"_

_"Same," came the response as Josh signaled to the flight attendant to get him a drink._

_"What a coincidence," Finn echoed, ordering a drink for himself._

_Josh swallowed a sarcastic laugh as he downed his alcoholic beverage of choice._

_Yeah, what a coincidence. What a coincidence indeed._


	10. Hello, Goodbye

**A/N:** Anyone have theories on the ending?

**Hello, Goodbye**

* * *

><p>Santana sat in her hotel room, bored to death. She wanted to go and pay Brittany a visit again, but she knew that the blonde needed some time and she was more than willing to wait. The time would probably go by a lot faster with some alcohol in her system, but she had sworn off drinking for the duration of the trip. Drinking usually got her into trouble and with Sam looking at her as a suspect in Finn's death, she was in plenty of that already. Honestly, what did she have to gain by killing him off? Alive or dead, his money would have been hers. Besides, she had loved Finn, not like she loved Brittany of course, but she <em>had <em>loved him.

She grimaced as she thought about the affair that she and Puck had carried on behind his back. Finn certainly didn't deserve that. She wasn't even really sure how the affair had started. _Temptation was a terrible thing_, she mused to herself. The ringing phone on her bedside table interrupted her thoughts then. Santana looked over her shoulder at the ringing device from where she was seated on the balcony and sighed. She doubted that the caller was Brittany, but still, she allowed herself to hope. She got up, albeit reluctantly, and walked over to answer the call.

"Brittany?" she murmured into the phone, her voice oddly optimistic.

Maybe the nurse she had asked to pass her number on to Brittany actually had. Santana would have to thank her later.

_Never mind._

"So, how did things go with the blonde?" came the voice from the other end of the line.

"Hector," she greeted him back, trying to hide the disappointment in her voice, but failing miserably.

"Nice to hear your voice too, _sis_," he drawled out sarcastically. "I've had employees who greet me more enthusiastically."

Hector and her had gone to college together for a few months before he had had to drop out for financial reasons. He had been like a brother to her during that time. He still was.

"They're hardly employees when you pay them like twenty cents an hour," she shot back at him, never having been okay with him running a string of sweat shops.

There was a tense pause. Santana _never _discussed his work with him. It was an unwritten rule between them, one she had just broken without a second thought. Needless to say, he was pissed.

"Look, not all of us are rich bitches, okay?" he shot back defensively. "I do what I have to do to make a living. The man I work for pays me well."

"You _know _I can get you work at Chamberlain Industries, Hector," she reminded him, having made a similar offer to him before. "All you have to do is ask."

"I'm not using no connections," he reminded her in return. "So, I supervise a couple of sweat shops. No big deal. At least I'm not killing people like some of the other people who work for my boss do. Besides, the working conditions at each of my factories are _more _than decent, thank you very much."

"You better be careful," she warned him anyway, hating that he was so goddamn pigheaded. "Your beloved boss might send _you _to an early grave one day."

"Nah," Hector assured her, confidence in his voice. "The boss only kills traitors and I ain't no traitor. Alright, enough about me. So, how goes everything with the blonde?"

Santana shrugged, even though he would not see the motion.

"She hates me," she announced with a sigh, falling back onto the bed. "When do you think I should go back and try to talk to her again?"

"Bummer," he drawled, knowing how important Brittany was to her. "Give her a couple of days. You two haven't been in touch since graduation. You probably spooked her showing up here without warning. _I_ almost had a heart attack when you called and told me you were coming to Mexico."

"Yeah, I guess," Santana muttered before an idea to cure her boredom came to mind. "Hey, you busy right now or can I drop by your office with lunch?"

"Nope, not busy at all," he answered, looking forward to seeing her again. "I'll make sure to let the boys know to let you through."

Santana ended the call and tossed her phone into her purse. Picking up deli sandwiches for them nearby, she headed straight to his office. As was expected, there were two buff guys guarding the entrance of the factory. Santana was sure they had guns too. They gave her a once over, both of their eyes lingering on her for long enough to give her the creeps, before letting her through. She tried to ignore the underpaid workers as she walked past them to get to his office, even though Hector had been right about the more than decent working conditions.

The first thing she said to him upon swinging open his office door was, "I was _this _close to clawing their eyes out, Hector."

She tossed one of the sandwiches to him before taking a seat in one of the chairs across from him, propping her legs up on his desk. Hector laughed as he unwrapped lunch. _Same old Santana._

"Boys will be boys, San, and let's face it. You're smoking," he complimented her, Santana rolling her eyes at him in response.

She took a hungry bite out of her sandwich, but then Hector opened his mouth again and she pretty much lost her appetite.

"I just remembered," he started and Santana stopped chewing immediately, eyebrow raised in anticipation. "I never offered my condolences. Sorry your fiancé died on you."

She sat up immediately, every nerve standing on end.

"He didn't _die _on me, asshole," she spat, glaring at him. "He was _murdered_. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"

He narrowed his eyes at her accusation. It was a huge one at that.

"Are you accusing me of _murder_, sis?" he questioned, except this time, the term of endearment was drenched in poison.

"If the shoe fits," she answered him with a shrug. "Come on, we both know you hated him. If I recall, you threatened to kill him the last time I was here."

His nostril's flared and Santana knew she had crossed the line. She had no idea what was going on with them today. She supposed they were both under a lot of stress and were simply taking out their frustrations on each other.

"That was _before _I found out that he wasn't the one who knocked Dana up," he reminded her, his tone cold and unforgiving. "I would never have _actually _killed him anyway. I'm not the type and you know it. I was just being overprotective of Dana like usual."

Santana sighed, the look in her eyes apologetic.

"Yeah, I know," she said, knowing how deep the bond between Dana and Hector was.

They had met one another through the foster care system.

"I'm sorry I even accused you of murder to begin with," she apologized formally. "Like you said, you're not the type. Plus, you wouldn't hurt me like that."

"Well, for what it's worth, you're not the type either," he echoed her apology, relaxing again. "I'm sorry that you're under investigation for Finn's murder."

"Hold up," Santana interjected, holding up a hand to stop him from talking. "How the _hell _do you know about that?"

"I keep tabs on the people I care about," he simply explained with a nonchalant shrug. "Obviously I don't give a damn when you go to the bathroom and stuff. My guy keeps me filled in on the more important things."

The Latina frowned in displeasure at his admission, although a tiny part of her was flattered that he cared enough to have someone watching over her at all times.

"By the way," he continued. "I keep tabs on Dana too. You need to tell your little actress friend to mind her own business. As much as I despise cops, she needs to leave murder investigations to the professionals. Whoever killed Finn's still out there. If she keeps sticking her nose where it don't belong, I guarantee the next funeral you'll be attending will be hers."

Even though she and Quinn were no longer as close as they had been back in high school, the thought of attending her funeral gave Santana the chills. Taking note of the somewhat threatening tone of his voice, she narrowed her eyes at him in suspicion, but said nothing. She was being ridiculous. Hector was a lot of things, but he wasn't a murderer.

"Wait," she said, another unrelated thought coming to her. "That means I have a legit alibi for that night! I was in the country when Finn was killed. You can get your guy to tell Sam that!"

"Are you crazy?" he asked her, even though he _did _want to help. "I can't get involved with the cops. Besides, one, I don't think they'd take my guy's word for it, not with the criminal record he has, and two, you could have easily hired someone to do the job for you." He raised his hands defensively and clarified before she could rip him a new one, "I'm not saying that you did, sis. I'm just saying that that's what the cops probably think."

Her anger fizzled when he explained himself. _Well, he was right._

"Yeah, I know what you mean," she mumbled, her lips in a pout.

She was about to say something else, but her ringing cell phone interrupted her thoughts then. _Brittany?_ She grinned and then, with shaky hands, took the call.

"B?" she questioned, unable to keep her voice steady. "No, I'm not busy…Okay, I'll be right there."

She hung up afterwards, a huge smile still on her face.

"Brittany wants to see me!" she announced excitedly, going over to the other side of the table to hug him. "Oh God, I'm so nervous right now! What do you think's going to happen?"

Hector laughed, hugging her back. He wished her the best.

"If I had a crystal ball, I'd have won the lottery by now, sis," he teased her, letting her go. "Good luck with the blonde. Come on. I'll walk you out."

Santana nodded, grabbing her purse. There was a skip in her step as she followed him out. _A skip in her step._ God, only for Brittany. She stopped in her tracks though when Hector did. Peering past him, she saw the two guards from earlier coming toward them, two people following close behind. She felt her heart drop when they flashed their badges for everyone to see. _Were they here to arrest Hector?_ He had led her to believe that his boss covered up his many illegal operations extremely well.

"Mr. Juarez?" one of the cops spoke up. "We're with the NYPD. We'd like to ask you a few questions."

"Isn't Mexico a little out of your jurisdiction?" Hector shot back, not even the least bit fazed by their presence here in his factory.

"Not when a high-profile American was killed on Mexican soil," the cop answered, his face seemingly frozen.

Unable to connect the dots between "high-profile American" and Finn, Santana flitted her eyes between them, more confused than ever now.

"We'd also like to search the place, Mr. Juarez," the other cop added with the same unreadable face. "We're in the process of getting a search warrant anyway, so we suggest you cooperate with us."

Hector raised an eyebrow at them. After a moment of prolonged silence, he motioned for his guards to return to their posts. He had everything under control here.

"By all means officers," he assured them, gesturing around the establishment. "I've got nothing to hide."

The cops shared a look with each other and then, one went around to check the premises, while the other stayed behind, probably to do the questioning.

"We can talk in my office," Hector offered and when the cop gave him a curt nod in agreement, he started to lead the way. "I'll catch you later, Santana."

She was about to protest, wanting to be there for him, but he shot her a look that left no room for negotiation.

"Call me later," she simply asked of him before she left.

He gave her a noncommittal wave and then disappeared into his office, the cop closing the door behind them.

* * *

><p>"Just trust me, okay?" Quinn pleaded with her best friend, having promised Dana that she would keep her secret. "Just <em>please<em>."

Amy stared at her for a moment, lips pursed in consideration before finally nodding her head in compliance.

"I trust you," she assured her, getting up to pour herself another cup of coffee.

When she returned to the couch with a steaming cup in her hands, Quinn was looking at an old high school photo of her and Finn. She had a sad smile on her face and Amy felt her heart go out to the blonde.

"Hey," she started, setting her mug on a coaster and pulling her into a side hug. "I know you're going to miss him terribly when he finally crosses over to the other side, but…"

"I know," Quinn interrupted her, her words a mere whisper. "We just…_have _to bring his killer to justice, Amy."

She nodded at her and assured her, "We will. I promise you, Quinn. All of our available resources are being used to find his killer."

The blonde sniffled, nodding her head in thanks, but then, she felt her best friend tense from beside her. She looked up at her, a questioning look in her glistening orbs.

"What's wrong?" she wondered, following Amy's gaze to the picture she held in her hands. "What do you see?"

Amy didn't answer her right away, watching as his image alternated between dead and alive.

She shook her head and enlightened her, "My radar's been off lately. Finn keeps alternating between dead and alive for me." She pursed her lips in confusion, a similar expression now on Quinn's face, and noted, "I mean, I've made mistakes before, but I've never seen someone's image do _that_. He moves from dead to alive so quickly, back and forth, back and forth, not all the time either."

"What? Okay, you're _really _confusing me, Amy," Quinn told her, but clamped her mouth shut after that, giving her time to explain things more clearly to her.

"Whenever I look at a picture," she responded, pausing for a moment to get her thoughts together. "I see the person as either dead or alive. Sometimes, I make a mistake and see the person as dead when he or she's alive and vice versa. I rarely make mistakes mind you, but it has happened once or twice. What I've _never _experienced, however, is someone's image _oscillating_ between the two states. Mistake or not, I usually only ever see them as one or the other, not both. Does that make sense now?"

"Yeah, but what does that mean?" Quinn questioned, beyond curious now. "I mean, either there's a reasonable explanation or your radar has finally broken, God forbid."

Amy shrugged, still staring at the picture with a puzzled expression on her face.

"I cannot _believe _you knew about the affair and never thought to say a word to me!" Finn shouted as he appeared before Quinn.

The blonde jumped at the sound of his voice and even Amy felt an angry presence in the room. The latter quickly excused herself, taking the photo in her hands with her into Quinn's bedroom. She knew the blonde would holler if she needed her.

"What affair?" Quinn wondered at the same decibel, having been completely caught off guard. "I don't…_Oh._" She paused, just watching him fume for a moment before finally telling him, "Finn, I wanted to, but it wasn't my place to say anything."

"Wasn't your _place_?" he scoffed. "Are you _fucking _kidding me? Any decent person would have said something. I was going to _marry _her! I was going to spend the rest of my _life _with her and she was screwing my best friend behind my back!"

"Ever since graduation, I've wanted _nothing _to do with anyone from McKinley," Quinn explained herself, not even thinking that the truth might make matters worse. "I was trying to mind my own business, stay out of your lives!"

"_Unbelievable!_" Finn continued to yell at her, absolutely livid. "I mean, we sat there across the table from each other. You went to the bathroom, heard the two of them fucking and said _nothing _when you came back. _Nothing!_ Not even with your eyes! When I was alive, I'll bet the three of you were thinking, _Finn's such an idiot! He was in high school. He still is now!_ Hell, I'm sure you're all _still _laughing at my expense!"

"Stop!" Quinn yelled back at him, starting to get scared. "_Stop _yelling at me! I'm sorry, okay? I should've told you, but I didn't. I'm…sorry."

She collapsed onto the couch after that, feeling like crying now. Finn was right. Any decent person would have told him. She had been selfish, not wanting to get involved. She looked up at him, eyes glistening with tears. His features seemed to soften at the sight of her and then, he sighed, sitting down in a chair across from her. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself down.

"I can't even change my goddamn will now," he told Quinn, his eyes darkening again as he thought about Puck and Santana's betrayal. "I'm leaving her half of my fortune for God's sake! That's like a hundred and forty million dollars, Quinn!"

"I'm sorry," Quinn repeated herself, not knowing what else to say.

Whereas she had wanted him to find out about the affair before, she felt terrible now that he had had to learn the truth. Ideally, he could have crossed over without _ever _knowing the truth. Finn caught her eye.

He let the silence simmer around them for awhile before he finally breathed, "I forg-"

But then, he stopped and looked down at himself. When he looked up again, Quinn's mouth was wide open. He was fading. Slowly, but surely, he was fading.

"What's going on?" Finn questioned, looking to the blonde for an answer. "Why am I…? Am I crossing over?"

"No," Quinn told him firmly, even though she was considering the possibility herself inside her mind. "You can't be. _Finn!_"

He was now a foggy silhouette hovering over the couch.

"Quinn, I think I'm…"

And then, he was gone. Quinn stared at the empty space where he had been moments earlier, still in shock over what had happened.

"Amy!" she finally shouted. "_Amy!_"

Her best friend came running out, both because she heard her calling and because she had an announcement to make.

"Quinn! His image stopped oscillating!" she told her. "Guess my radar's not…"

She noticed the look of shock on Quinn's face and trailed off. Looking to where Quinn was staring at and then back at Finn's now two-dimensional image in her hands, Amy drew her own conclusions about what had happened. _But he couldn't have…_She went to sit next to Quinn on the couch, pulling her into her arms.

"He'll be back," she promised her, rocking the blonde back and forth, back and forth as she started to sob into her shoulder. "He'll be back, Quinn. He hasn't crossed over, okay? People don't cross over like that. He didn't see a light. He just…disappeared. He'll be back."

For some reason, the more Amy said those words, the less she believed them, but for her best friend's sake, she hoped she was right.


	11. A Coincidence Of Sorts

**A/N:** Thank you for all of your input. I have decided to see this story through.

**A Coincidence Of Sorts**

* * *

><p><em>Finn straightened out his tie, giving himself the once-over in the mirror. He looked good like a real professional and to think he'd been convinced that his life was over when he had failed to get a football scholarship anywhere in senior year. He was quite literally at the top of his game right now and the world was at his feet. He was rich beyond his wildest dreams and in two weeks, he was going to be marrying one of the hottest women in New York.<em>

_So, why did he still feel so empty? Like none of what he had in his possession mattered? He knew why and he also knew that no one could ever fill that emptiness but one blonde beauty, a blonde beauty that had walked out of his life many years ago, one that he should really just forget. A dejected sigh left his lips then because he would if he knew how. How do you forget the first girl who took your breath away? Because Quinn Fabray had done exactly that all those years ago - taken his breath away and she had yet to give it back._

_A knock on the door then interrupted his thoughts and Finn went to open the door without a second thought, greeting the hotel employee that met his gaze quite cheerfully, "Oh, hey! Are you here to clean the room or something? Great timing. I'm just on my way out. Gracias!"_

_He was about to walk past him when the Hispanic gentleman blocked his path, causing them to bump chests. Finn stepped back and looked at him, raising an eyebrow in confusion at first, but then, realization hit him._

_"Oh, I'm sorry," he apologized, not meaning his words offensively. "Do you not speak English? I'm going out. Feel free to clean the room."_

_He repeated himself slowly so that he might understand. Finn could understand Spanish, but speaking it? Yeah, right._

_"Of course I speak English, you ignorant fuck," the man spat in disgust, pushing him into the room with much force._

_Before Finn could react, two rather large men seemed to come out of nowhere and pin him to the hotel bed. Upon instinct, he shouted for help, struggling to break free from their grasp. The gentleman (although he hardly warranted the word) who he had mistaken for a hotel employee earlier walked up close to him and kicked him hard in the shin, warning him not to continue calling for help before going back to kick the hotel room door closed with his large, black boots._

_"One sound," T.J. threatened him, pulling out his gun and pointing the weapon to his temple. "And I will blow your brains out."_

_Although Finn stopped shouting for help, he continued thrashing against the two men who were holding him down, scared out of his mind at the moment. It showed too, which he had no doubt gave his assaulter the sense of power he so often craved. There was something about the way he had delivered his threat that made Finn certain that the man had meant his every word. Upon closer inspection, the man's eyes were soulless like he killed for a living. Finn shuddered at the thought of the dead bodies he had racked up over the years._

_"What do you want?" Finn questioned, trying to keep his voice as steady as possible. "Is it money? Just give me your account number. I'll wire the money to you. Just…let me go."_

_He had a family, a fiancée he'd promised he'd go home to. If these goons wanted a part of his fortune, he'd happily hand it over to stay alive. The laugh that came from his three captors in response sent a chill down his spine. These men weren't interested in his money, which meant that someone out there had a personal vendetta against him and that this was their revenge. He was trying to rack his brain for anyone he might have wronged, but became distracted once more by a raspy, ear-grating voice._

_"Money?" T.J. spat in disbelief, motioning for his two men to stand Finn up. "I'm not after your money, amigo. Believe me. I'm getting paid very handsomely for what I'm doing and I'm not even the one who's going to be putting that bullet in your head."_

_Another nod of his head and the two men dragged him toward the hotel room door. Finn closed his eyes when T.J. came up close to his face, tapping his gun against his right cheek. Ugh, the smell of booze and cigarettes on him was disgustingly overwhelming._

_"My boys are going to let you go now," he told him very carefully. "And then, the four of us are going to head downstairs and stroll out of that lobby like we're just a couple of guys going out for a good time. Do you understand me?"_

_Finn was already formulating his escape plan in his head upon hearing his words, but T.J. was one step a head of him. He took out his cell phone from his shirt pocket, showing Finn his wallpaper, which he had set to one beautiful, blonde Quinn Fabray._

_"You try to escape or clue anyone in on your current situation and I will kill her. Am I making myself clear?" he asked him, a sleazy grin on his face. "She's mighty fine too, so me and my boys are going to have some fun with her before we kill her too if you know what I mean."_

_Finn could have snatched the gun from his hands and killed the bastard right there and then. He was furious enough, but he kept his cool. It was the only way he would get out of this alive._

_"You've got the wrong girl. We used to date in high school. She means nothing to me now," Finn lied, staring him right in the eyes._

_He let out a grunt when T.J. hit him hard in the gut, hearing his obnoxious laugh in his ears._

_"You think I'm fucking stupid or something?" he hissed, giving him another slap upside the head for good measure. "Me and my boys have done our research. You try anything and not only am I going to kill her, I'll make sure you're there to see it happen."_

_"Okay, okay!" Finn shouted, unable to bear the thought of anything happening to Quinn because of him. "I'll go with you guys. You have my word. Just…don't hurt her. Please."_

_T.J. eyed him for a moment before finally deciding that he was telling the truth. That blonde bitch must mean a lot to him, he mused to himself before signaling for everyone to start moving. They made it out of the lobby without a hitch with Finn's cooperation. He would have tried something, anything if that asshole hadn't brought Quinn into the picture. The moment Finn followed the three men into a waiting car, the brunette had a sinking feeling that time was running out. He was going to die right here in Mexico and no one would ever find his body. T.J. hit him over the head with his gun, hard, and Finn blacked out._

Finn opened his eyes and gasped, his heart pounding wildly against his ribcage, his hands gripping tighter onto the sheets. Why was everything so blindingly white? Why couldn't he move? Why couldn't he…?

"Help!" he managed to shout, the desperation evident in his voice, before he blacked out again.

_The ride to wherever they were headed had been short and Finn felt himself being seated in a chair in no time, his arms and feet tightly bound so that he could not escape. T.J. had knocked him out the moment the driver had pulled away from the curb and he was now just waking up. He let out a soft groan as someone pulled the bag off his head and he blinked as he adjusted to the blinding light in the centre of the room. At least, Finn figured he was in some sort of room because besides the one light, it was pretty dark all around. All he could see were shadows really and as he narrowed his eyes, Finn distinctly made out four bodies standing several feet away from him. He strained his ears to try and eavesdrop on their conversation._

_"You the American Mr. C sent to make sure we get the job done?" he heard T.J. ask one of the others._

_"Yeah, that's me. It's not that Mr. C doesn't trust your boss. We're just saving you all the phone call," a familiar voice answered and the other men laughed like he'd just told a funny joke._

_"I'm grabbing a beer before the boss comes," T.J. announced and his two men echoed the sentiment._

_The American, however, shook his head, choosing to stay behind._

_"Nah, I'd better keep an eye on the guy in case he tries to run," the American answered, to which T.J. handed him a gun._

_"You know how to work that thing white boy?" he questioned and the American raised an eyebrow at him in response, not amused in the least._

_He raised the gun and shot at the factory's symbol hanging off the left wall. It was a clean, perfect shot and T.J. and his men hollered, clearly impressed._

_"Alright, buddy, ring us when the boss gets here, yeah?" T.J. clarified before leaving, his other "buddies" trailing closely behind him._

_Finn heard the American come closer once the others had left._

_"You son of a bitch," Finn seethed once Josh came into view. "Who the hell are you really? What did you do to Rachel? What do you want with me?"_

_Josh raised an eyebrow at him, slightly amused that at a time like this, he was more concerned about Rachel than he was for himself._

_"Relax, Finn. I'd never hurt Rachel. I take care of my girl," he assured him, playing with the gun in his hand. "Oh, and in case it wasn't obvious already, I don't believe in coincidences and frankly, neither should you."_

* * *

><p>Santana found herself unbelievably nervous as she sat in the hospital cafeteria waiting for Brittany to get off her shift. The blonde actually wanted to talk and Santana was not about to screw up this opportunity. She was going to get Brittany back or die trying. She'd give up everything in her life to be able to hold her once more, to be able to call Brittany hers again. She heard her coming long before she saw that beautiful face.<p>

"Brittany," she greeted her almost breathlessly as the blonde took the seat across from her.

Brittany averted her eyes from her, merely nodding her head in greeting.

"Why are you here, S?" she questioned quietly, wondering whether or not she had detected the tiny quiver in her voice.

She had, but she wasn't about to mention it.

"Didn't I make that obvious the other day?" Santana asked her in return instead, feeling herself grow weak as well. "I love you, B. I never stopped loving you. I…I want you back."

Brittany could feel her heart clench at her words. Even after all these years, Santana still had her heart. _It wasn't fair._

"I…I love you too, S," the blonde admitted, having decided what she was going to say to her after a night of relentless tossing and turning in her bed. "I never stopped loving you either…"

She trailed off as Santana grabbed he hand from across the table. The sad look in her eyes told the Latina that this conversation was not going to end well.

"But I can't trust you anymore," Brittany confessed, removing her hand from under hers. "It's been too long. I…don't know how."

With newfound confidence, she grabbed the blonde's hand again with no intention of letting go.

"Brittany, I made a mistake and I'm sorry I hurt you. I'm sorry that you've been running because of me. I should've done more because the truth is I've been sitting around just waiting for you to come back to me. I've been waking up every morning thinking to myself 'My PI is going to have good news for me today. _He's found her._' I should've done more. I should've been out there looking for you myself. My whole life after you has been a lie, Brittany, and _that's_ the truth," she finished, hoping that the blonde would understand the true gravity of her words.

Brittany's heart skipped a beat and she immediately clarified, "You've been hiring PIs to look for me?"

There was a genuine smile on her face and a hopeful twinkle in her eye as the Latina thought that she might be softening her resolve, that Brittany might finally forgive her after all this time and give them another shot.

"Of course, how else do you think I found you?" Santana wondered, crinkling her nose in confusion. "B, I'm not the coward I was all those years ago. I'm proud of who I am and I'm certainly not ashamed of you. I made a mistake and I've made a lot more since we parted. I can't promise you I'm not going to make mistakes again, but I'm going to try not to. You make me want to be a better person. Yo-"

Her words were cut off as Brittany leaned forward to kiss her, having heard enough of her incessant rambling.

"One day at a time, okay, S?" she said when she finally pulled away from their lip lock, looking at her through her eyelashes.

Santana grinned at her, beyond ecstatic that Brittany was willing to give her a second chance, to give _them_ a second chance.

"One day at a time," the Latina echoed, lacing her fingers with hers from across the table. "Sounds…perfect. Thank you."

* * *

><p>One week. It had been one week since Finn had disappeared from her couch right before her very eyes, one week since she had locked herself in her penthouse suite, awaiting his return. She refused to go anywhere else, <em>do<em> anything else but stay here and wait for him to come back to her. She didn't even hear Amy unlocking the front door, Sam walking close behind her, a scared look on his face as if he were afraid of what he might find.

"Oh my gosh! Are you _still_ staring at your couch?" Amy questioned in disbelief, going over to Quinn and literally lifting her up from the chair she was sitting in. "He's been gone for a week, Quinn! Maybe it's time to consider the possibility that he actually cr-"

"Don't you _dare_ mention the 'c' word!" Quinn shouted, shoving her away with more force than she had intended and seating herself in her chair again, eyes never once leaving the spot on her couch where she had seen Finn last.

He was going to come back to her. _He had to._

"Quinn," Sam murmured in concern, steadying his girlfriend before going over to her side. "We're just really worried about you, okay? You haven't been to work in a week. Come on, Q. You're stronger than this."

_Except I'm not. I'm not as strong as you all want me to be._

"What are you even doing here?" the blonde questioned in confusion, whirling around where she was seated to look accusingly at her best friend. "You told him! You told him about my gift?"

Sam opened his mouth to explain on Amy's behalf, but one glare from her and he knew he should just stay out of it. _Women._

"I _had_ to! I've been trying to get you to snap out of this all week! I needed help!" Amy defended her decision to get Sam involved. "Besides, why shouldn't Sam know? He's my boyfriend and practically your brother."

Quinn scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest and turning away from her again. She was being overdramatic as usual. She was still eating, still showering. Sure, she hadn't had much sleep all week, but _whatever_.

"She's lying. She just wanted to play some good cop bad cop," Sam teased, deciding that it was time to intervene and try to take on a lighter approach to placating Quinn. "I'm the good cop by the way."

The blonde looked back and forth between Sam and Amy, an incredulous look gracing her face for a good second or two before she burst into laughter.

"Okay, okay, I get it," she assured them. "I know the two of you mean well, but he's coming back and I don't want to miss his return."

Amy sighed, going over to her other side, exchanging a look with Sam.

"Quinn, think about this logically," she pleaded with her. "Even if Finn _were_ to return, don't you think he'd come and find you directly? Spirits seek out people, not…"

She trailed off, turning to look at the couch.

"...not couches," she finished, tilting her head to the side as she looked at Quinn again and waited for her to realize her own stupidity.

Sam could tell from the expression on Quinn's face that they had gotten through to her. She was just too stubborn to admit that over the last week, she had been acting like a total crazy person, completely irrational.

"So, while we wait for Finn to come back, why don't we keep on working on his case, hmmm? Quinn, you can be an unofficial consultant of sorts," Sam suggested, unaware that the blonde sort of kind of already was. He checked his watch and clarified, "Not right now though because it's practically dinner time and _this_ officer is starving. How about the three of us go out for dinner, huh? Quinn, maybe you can call Richard and ask him to come with. I know he's been calling you nonstop all week and that you haven't been returning any of his calls."

"Fine," Quinn muttered, to which Amy squealed in delight, taking her best friend to the bedroom to get changed.

Once the blonde was ready, they went back into the living room to join Sam, whose expression prompted them to ask in unison, "Is something wrong?"

"We know where Finn died," he answered them, elaborating without being asked to, "At a sweat shop owned by Hector Juarez and guess who my guys saw him hanging out with not too long ago?"

Quinn furrowed her eyebrows in confusion, while Amy's mouth fell into an 'o'.

"Santana," Amy mumbled and the blonde turned to look at her in shock.

"I'm sorry. _What?_"


	12. More Dead Than Alive

**A/N:** Finally had the time to write another chapter. Enjoy and feedback would be lovely as always.

**More Dead Than Alive**

* * *

><p>Josh slammed his empty beer bottle down on the table, immediately demanding another. After sitting here and contemplating for awhile, he had concluded that Finn Hudson was indeed a dumb fuck. Josh had risked a lot to help him escape and yet, he had still managed to get himself killed.<p>

"_You need me to do what?" Josh clarified, his eyes widening in shock, his lips slightly parted._

_His dad moved away from his office window and walked toward him, motioning for him to take a seat as he was going to be here for awhile._

"_I am not asking you to kill him, son," he assured him, taking in his shocked expression. "Lorenzo's men will take care of that. I just need to you to go to Mexico, make sure that they get the job done, and report back to me."_

_Josh continued to stare at him in awe, still attempting to process everything his dad had told him from the moment he had stepped into his swanky office. Finn had betrayed his father and now the boy was going to pay the price. Josh certainly did not want to get involved._

"_Oh, is that all you want me to do?" he clarified, sarcasm dripping from his every word. "There's no way I'm getting involved in your shit, okay? I've got a girl to take care of now."_

_His dad pressed his lips together into a thin line, clearly displeased with his response._

"_Rachel, yes?" his father questioned, taking a seat on the edge of his desk and looking down at him. "I had no idea you were so serious about her."_

_Josh rolled his eyes at him. He knew he didn't always treat her right, but he loved her. He did. He was planning on marrying her someday._

"_Not all of us screw around for a living," he spat, disgusted with the man before him. "Don't bother denying it. I'm sure I have a lot of brothers and sisters out there in the world that I don't know about."_

_His dad remained silent upon hearing his words because he really had no rebuttal to that. It was the truth after all._

_After awhile, he confirmed, "Well, yes, but your mother and I shared something special. You're the only one of my children I actually acknowledge, keep in touch with."_

"_Yeah, and not even in public," Josh muttered under his breath, the bitterness in his voice obvious._

_Still, with his mother being long gone, his dad was really the only family he had, so even though he was just another bastard child of his who he would never acknowledge in public, Josh still craved for his attention and most importantly, his approval._

"_Fine, I'll go, but what's in it for me?" he wondered because regardless of how much he wanted to please his father, there was no way he was doing this for free._

"_How does a million dollars sound?" his dad offered, raising an eyebrow at him._

_Josh smirked. A million dollars sounded great, but he knew he could get much more out of his dad._

"_Make it three and you've got yourself a deal," he countered and once they shook hands, the deal was done._

"_Mr. Chamberlain?" his dad's secretary interrupted them then. "Mr. Hudson's on line two."_

Josh downed another cold beer in record time. Finn had been a fool to mess with his father. He had to admit that he was impressed though. Finn had actually caught on to the fact that his dad had been laundering money for criminals and had contacted the IRS himself to report him. It was ballsy to say the least. For the last six months, up and until he was killed, Finn had been working closely with the IRS to get the evidence they needed to bring his dad down. Finn Hudson was clearly a standup guy, but man, _what a dumb fuck_! His father had eyes and ears everywhere and the fact that he worked for criminals? Well, that had just made killing his traitorous ass off that much easier. His dad hadn't even needed to do the dirty work himself.

"_Come on, man," Finn pleaded with him, desperation written all over his face. "Just let me go. I won't breathe a word to anyone about this, not even Rachel. I swear."_

_Christ, he was dramatic! Josh looked around the factory, checking to make sure that they were truly alone before putting his gun away._

"_Will you chill out? I'm here to help you," he finally revealed, making sure to speak in hushed tones. "I just need to act like one of the bad guys and I need you to play along when the real ones return. Do you understand me?"_

"_Wait, what?" Finn questioned, a look of absolute confusion on his face. "You're here to…help me? But I thought…"_

_Josh rolled his eyes and interrupted him, "Yeah, yeah, I know what you thought, Hudson, but my dad's the one who wants you dead, not me. Besides, if Rachel ever finds out I was involved in your death, she'd hate me forever and she's kind of sort of the best thing that's ever happened to me, okay?"_

"_Wait, your dad?" Finn echoed, more confused than ever now. "What did I do to your dad? I don't even know your dad, dude. I barely even know you!"_

"_Oh, for Christ's sake," Josh muttered under his breath, starting to lose his patience with him._

_Did the guy have to know everything? He doubted that Finn would let him get away without a full explanation of what the hell was going on, so, he told him everything from the fact that his boss was his dad to what his dad had asked him to do._

"_Shit, shit, shit," Finn swore, fully understanding that he was in deep shit now._

_Well, deeper than he had initially thought at least. For how long did Mr. Chamberlain know that he was working with the IRS to gather evidence of his illegal activities and bring him down?_

"_Yeah, that pretty much sums it up," Josh commented, rolling his eyes again. "Now, listen up. Here's the plan. They'll probably rough you up a bit in here before taking you out back and killing you. I'll volunteer to take you outside. That's when you'll knock me out cold and make your escape. You're going to have to go through the deserted field out back because the factory will be crawling with Lorenzo's men. Got it?"_

"_Got it," Finn echoed, starting to feel a little queasy because he had a feeling whoever this Lorenzo person was was going to be here soon. "Wait, what about you?"_

"_They won't touch me if that's what you're worried about. I'm Mr. C's son, remember?" he reminded him, starting to wonder whether the guy had short term memory or something. "Take my gun too, okay? Just in case you need to protect yourself."_

_Just then, they heard a car pulling up to the factory outside. Lorenzo. Josh quickly called the other boys to get back here before stepping away from Finn and reaching for his gun again. He was about to really put his acting skills to the test._

Josh stumbled out of the bar and got into a cab, ready to head home to Rachel. How had Finn Hudson gotten himself killed anyway? He should have had plenty of time to run. When he got back to the apartment, he headed straight for bed, collapsing next to Rachel, who had yet to fall asleep.

"Oh, baby," the brunette murmured. "How much did you have to drink?"

"I'm sorry he's dead," was all Josh muttered before he completely passed out.

He didn't even hear the gasp that left Rachel's mouth afterward.

* * *

><p>"So, you're really coming back to New York with me?" Santana confirmed for the millionth time.<p>

Brittany let out a laugh as they walked through the hospital halls.

"Yes. I already handed in my resignation. I'm just going to finish out the week," the blonde answered her one more time (and hopefully, for the last time).

As they walked past a guarded room on the floor, Santana stopped in her tracks and questioned, her curiosity piqued, "What's with the guard? Is there a VIP hospitalized in there or something?"

Brittany shrugged, stopping next to her and elaborating, "Maybe. I'm not too sure. I've never had to deal with him before. Cassie has though. She's one of the other nurses here. She was the one who found him in the alley that night actually. He'd been beaten up pretty bad and was out cold. He's been in a coma ever since, the poor thing. As far as I know, no one's been able to identify him, especially not with the injuries he's sustained."

"Didn't he have any ID on him?" Santana continued to pry, inexplicably rooted to the ground.

For some reason, she felt an odd pull toward that particular room.

"Nope, none whatsoever," Brittany informed her, knitting her eyebrows together in confusion as she had no idea why Santana was so interested in that particular patient.

"Can we go in and take a look?" the Latina begged her, intrigued by the unknown coma patient.

"What? _Why?_" the blonde wondered, an incredulous look on her face as she started to pull Santana away from the room.

"Hey, who knows? _I_ might be able to identify him," Santana pointed out to her in response, resisting her pull.

"You're crazy, but we can't go in there. Besides the police, only Cassie and his doctor are allowed inside his room," Brittany enlightened her, an amused look on her face when she witnessed Santana's face fall at the information.

"Oh, well, that sucks," she commented, finally continuing to walk down the corridor, Brittany by her side.

Her phone rang then and she apologized when Brittany shot her a look. Checking the caller ID, Santana knew that she couldn't ignore the call. It was Hector.

"I'm just going to take this outside," Santana told her, heading for the nearest exit. "Hey, what's up?"

"Was Finn ever involved in illegal shit?" Hector inquired, getting straight to the point.

"_Excuse me?_" she responded, completely caught off guard by his question. "Where's this coming from exactly?"

"The cops found his blood on the floor of my factory," he revealed, his words hurried. "They think he was killed here. If they're right, he was killed on my boss' orders. I need to know if he was involved in anything illegal for me to get to the bottom of this."

Her jaw dropped open and she remained unresponsive for a long time, trying to process everything her friend was saying to her.

"His…His _blood_?" she clarified, her voice shaking. She cleared her throat before she continued, her voice back to normal once more, "I don't understand. How is that even possible?"

"It's _possible _if he was involved in anything illegal," Hector repeated himself, being patient with her. "_Clearly_, he pissed off the wrong people."

"Finn's not involved in anything illegal. I mean, he _wasn't_," she corrected herself. "He always did what was right. That was one of the annoying things about him to be honest. There's just no way he'd…"

"Maybe he had a secret double life you didn't know about, sis," he countered. "Look, I'm going to ask around, okay? If he really _did _die here, I can't help but feel a little responsible for his death. I'll keep you updated."

"Huh?" Santana voiced, having zoned out. "Um, yeah. Okay, thanks."

_Finn's _blood in _Hector's _factory, most likely because he was killed there by a mob boss for crossing him. _What? _Just the fact that Finn might have been involved in something illegal completely blew her mind. She found herself revisiting every moment of their relationship. Had she been so self absorbed that she had missed something? That she had missed some sort of double life he'd had? At some point, Brittany came out to find her, concerned because she had been gone for awhile.

"You look like you've seen a ghost, S," the blonde commented, walking her over to one of the benches outside.

"Brittany," she said as she turned to look at her girlfriend. "I'd rather I had. It's time to get to the bottom of Finn's murder."

The blonde tilted her head to the side, looking at her, perplexed.

"Okay," Brittany started slowly. "How are you - _we _- going to do that exactly?"

Santana sighed, pulling out her phone.

"First things first, we're calling Sam."

* * *

><p>Quinn waited for the seatbelt sign to turn off before she got up from her seat, heading toward the nearest lavatory. Santana had called Sam last night and told him what Hector had told her, which meant that in the process she had admitted to leaving the country when he had specifically told her not to. Still, with Santana and possibly Hector helping them now, they had a better chance of piecing the puzzle together, which was why she was headed to Mexico with Sam and Amy right now. Finn involved in something illegal? The blonde shook her head, just unable to believe that. There had to be some other reason Finn had been killed, that his blood had been found in that factory.<p>

She closed the door behind her and slid the lock in place, letting out a scream when she turned around and saw Finn in the mirror. She whirled around to find him _actually _standing there and she almost fainted.

"Miss? Are you alright?" a passing flight attendant asked from the other side of the barrier, concern in her voice.

"Yes, I…I'm fine," Quinn stuttered, staring at Finn, not knowing what to say. Finally, she noted breathlessly, "You're…back. Where…?"

She couldn't finish her question because she started to tear. She had been ready to believe that maybe Finn _had _crossed over and as if he had sensed exactly that, he had come back to reel her back in again.

"Quinn?" he whispered, his own eyes growing moist. "I thought I'd never see you again." He shook his head and added, "I'm not dead, Quinn. I'm not."

She sniffled, raising an eyebrow at him upon hearing his rather bold statement.

"Not dead?" she questioned, clearly confused. "What do you mean _not dead_? Where did you go? Did someone tell you that? Did an angel tell you that or something? Are you being given a second chance like in the movies?"

"No, no," he interrupted her mostly nonsensical rambling. "I've been reliving the events up to my murder, Q. Once in awhile, I woke up in a white room. I would only wake up for a few seconds each time before blacking out again, but I'm _not _dead, Quinn. I _swear _to you I'm not dead. I don't _feel _dead."

Quinn took a deep, shaky breath, trying to process everything that he was telling her right now.

"You _have _to be," the blonde told him, even though she wished that weren't the case. "The fact that we're connecting like this, Finn? You _have _to be dead. I communicate with spirits…Wait, wait. You said you were reliving the events up to your murder. You've got to fill me in so I can tell Sam. Santana and Hector, they're helping us now and…"

"Hold up, _Sam_? Sam knows about me? Also, Hector?" Finn questioned, closing his eyes as he tried to remember. "As in the guy who owns the factory I was beat up to a pulp in? Why would he even _want _to help?"

Seeing as he had asked those questions, Quinn could safely assume that Hector hadn't killed him. (She ignored his question about Sam as the answer to _that _one was obvious.)

"He's just looking out for Santana," she explained. "Plus, he feels slightly responsible I think that you were killed in his factory. Wait, backtrack, you were beat up?"

"Yeah," he murmured. "It was brutal seeing myself get beat up like that, but at least I don't feel the pain anymore, right?" Finn shook his head and revealed afterward, "Hector definitely wasn't there that night. I heard the guys mention him. That's all. I think they were going to pin it on him if need be."

Quinn took a step closer to him, reaching out hesitantly to touch his cheek, wanting to feel his skin beneath her fingertips, even though she knew that that wasn't possible. She gasped, however, when she _did _feel his skin against hers moments later. She moved her hand further and the feeling went away as her hand slipped right through him. She retracted her hand again and right where her fingertips were _just _brushing his cheek, she could feel him again. _She could feel him!_

"How…?" Finn questioned, bewildered because he could feel her too. "I can feel you touching me, Quinn."

He noticed that she was crying now and the wetness he felt on his own cheeks told him that he was crying too. They stared at each other for the longest time, unmoving. After reconnecting with her, being apart from her had been terrible. If he was really alive like he believed he was, that would _completely _change things for them.

"What if I were?" he murmured, taking a step forward and resting his hands on either side of her waist, curious as to whether or not she'd be able to feel _his _hands on _her_.

She gasped at his touch.

"Your hands are cold," she whispered, half jokingly, half nervously before a more serious expression returned to her face. "What if you were what?"

"Alive," he answered her at once. "What if I were alive? Would you…?"

He trailed off. _Would you come back to me?_

"In a heartbeat," she admitted out loud because after almost losing hope and starting to believe that he had _actually _crossed over, Quinn knew that there was no one else she'd want to be with in this world or any other.

She leaned in then, desperate to kiss him, but he stopped her.

"No," he told her firmly, even though it _killed _him to reject her. "I want our first kiss to be in the flesh. I promise you, Quinn. I'm alive. I'm sure of it. Please help me find me."

She nodded, not having taken his rejection offensively. There was a look of determination in her eyes.

"If you're positive you're alive, Finn, then I won't stop until I find you. I promise," she told him, frowning as the feel of his hands on her waist began to fade away. Then, she realized that _he _was fading again, just like he had that day in her apartment.

"Finn?" she questioned, her voice panicked now.

The idea of losing him again was almost too much to bear.

"Please, don't go," she begged him, even though she knew that the decision wasn't his to make.

Finn looked down at himself and then back up at her.

"Don't worry, Q," he told her, keeping his own voice calm in an attempt to calm her. "I'm going to come back. I'm _always _going to come back to you, Quinn. Please just listen carefully to me. Okay, babe?"

Quickly, he told her everything that he had witnessed from being tortured to knocking Josh out cold just like they had planned. The last thing he remembered was escaping through the abandoned field, but then, he'd completely blacked out. She was going to have to figure out the rest with the others' help, especially why "his body" had been found. The last thing he said before he completely disappeared was 'I love you'. Sadly, he didn't stick around for long enough to hear her 'I love you too'.


End file.
